The Infected 2: Gabriel

by P. S. Power

  Kerry took a sip of her own and grinned. It looked charming even on her plain face, small nose, a little upturned at the end, but with high cheekbones that should have made her look hot, and somehow just didn't. She looked just a little like those old troll dolls, except her hair wasn't purple and standing straight up. Her light brown locks sat around her shoulders today, not having been put up at all. They weren't in the kitchen though, so this may just be her normal style, it wasn't the best one for her, Denis thought, but wouldn't mention even under torture. Around food the hair went up though? Made sense. If he wanted her hair in his mouth he'd...

  Denis stopped the thought and sipped his coffee, waiting for someone else to speak and distract him. Kerry obliged.

  “Ah, ambrosia. They get the really good kind here. Kona or something. The team two dining facility serves Folgers canned. It's not hideous, but that's about the best I can say for it. Powdered creamer too, can't even be bothered to put out half and half. You'd think, since it's one of the only groups of people in the world that doesn't have to worry about too many calories in the main, they'd put out the good stuff, but no.”

  Mark looked troubled over the whole concept. For a second Denis wondered if it might be an act or set up for a joke, the hangdog look and head shaking seeming so out of place on him. Instead it turned out to be a real pet peeve of his. His words were calm in tone, but the meaning stood crystal clear. Mark did not like the way team two was treated as far as food went. Not at all.

  “Substandard coffee, cafeteria style food that comes prepackaged and frozen or out of cans, and dispensers of generic “fruit punch”. It's kind of like the government is saying “hey, you don't really matter as much as everyone else” with each bite of tasteless and reheated food. Worse, they don't even have to spend a lot more on it. They budget ten dollars per meal per day for food, that's plenty enough for quality. I could feed a family of four better on thirty dollars a day than they're feeding team two individually for the same amount.” He shrugged, coffee held in front of him.

  “Yes, most of team two eats a lot more, but that's not a good excuse. Really it makes it worse.”

  The fourth member of their cooking show team sat and nodded emphatically. Warren looked at Mark hard and took a cup of coffee himself, adding cream and real sugar before saying anything.

  “Yeah. It's practically a punishment the way they treat those people. We should do something about it. Maybe we could send some baked goods down for one of the shows? Or... I don't know, that doesn't fix the whole thing. Lobby the Director? He won't listen to me, I'm just a civilian contractor, but you three have some pull...” The look he gave Mark and Kerry felt significant, like this had plagued him for a while too.

  Mark nodded.

  “I like it. Let's do it. It will have to be about halfway into the season though. The network wants to see some of the “color” around here, but it's a food show, not one about politics. They indicated some of the rougher seeming people would be alright, but not for a while, to start they want pretty. We need a gimmick for the next episode too. I was thinking chocolate? Most people like it, so it's not exactly a hard sell for the first show.”

  That started a bunch of suggestions for things that Denis hardly understood. Really, he'd thought a “tort” to be a part of law, but apparently it could also be a complicated and expensive chocolate cake thing that didn't even have flour. Kerry wanted to do chocolate éclairs and Warren wanted to add a really delicate sounding pastry wrapped chocolate chicken. Denis didn't know if he should gag a little or save room to try it. They all looked at him as if expecting something.

  “What? Oh... um... I'm supposed to have ideas too? I thought I was on pots and pans... OK... It's not baking, but what about some hot chocolate? I don't know how to make it myself... but... Maybe one of you could show me how, kind of “watch the inept pot washer learn” section? People love to watch other people screw up and I can almost guarantee that I can do that.” Denis smiled and took a second cup of coffee. Without realizing it he'd been sipping at his first one constantly, the smooth flavor strong, but not bitter at all somehow. He took it black like always.

  To his surprise Mark and Warren both nodded.

  “Good idea. If it works out we can have it as a running segment. Any ideas as to how to add some people from here into the background?” Mark made notes, his writing clear and precise, the blue ink on white and blue lined school paper deep and stark enough Denis realized he could make it out, even upside down.

  The sip of warm coffee burned as it went down, just a little. Denis thought for a second, then realized he had something, even if it probably would end up being a bit of a disaster. Still... It could be funny.

  “How about this, each week or two we grab some unsuspecting person from around the base and make them do work on the show. Prime volunteered to help me wash dishes and a lot of the first team members probably would be willing to help too. We could get Argos to scrub the floors just by suggesting it and the guy really loves to eat, so if we need a tester for anything, he'd be great at it. Karen would do it just to help out. Brian too probably. Only, you know, don't make them a special guest or give them the good jobs, just have them do real work and put up who they are under their faces as the camera shows them.” He looked down, suddenly wondering if saying that had been a good idea. Was it too dickish? It sounded like he was saying they should humble the team one people or something, but he really just thought making them out to seem like regular Joes would work better than rock stars. Make them accessible to normal people. Show that they could do normal things and worked hard.

  Kerry laughed and clapped a bit, tickled by the idea. Mark wrote it down and didn't comment at all and Warren sipped at his own cup as if thinking. Finally he yawned and waved his right hand expressively.

  “We can always feed people too. Kind of the standard for shows like this. Make them test whatever we've made, not just Argos. I also think we should hold to the idea of at least one experimental dish per week. That and our “celebrity kitchen slaves”, maybe get some regular stars in too if anyone will do it, politicians or whatever...” He glanced over at Denis and winked. “Along with a section about training “the newb” and I think we'll have a good start.

  A few minutes later food came. No one had ordered anything, but it all looked good, if identical. Eggs Benedict, cheese filled crepes and sliced fruit. Pears and cantaloupe with real cherry halves decorating the top of the arrangement. If he'd been down on nine, the morning cook would have made waffles or something like that. The quality difference wasn't trivial at all.

  The meeting didn't take all day, since everyone actually worked together pretty well. They finished up by nine, meaning Denis didn't have anything to do in particular until two. Whatever the hell that would be about. Probably the crap from the day before. It made sense. The military can't have liked the IPB taking in a general and his aid. Denis just didn't make the loop on that one at all so far and hadn't worried about it. Did he really expect to be kept apprised like someone important? For all he knew the whole thing had already been resolved already, murder attempt or not. One of the cool things about the IPB being that, since so many people here were Infected and had a wide variety of first modes, no one held grudges if they could help it. You were normally told on your first day to kind of forgive and forget if you felt wronged.

  Not everyone did it of course. Some people had first modes that just wouldn't let that happen at all.

  Most managed pretty well. Like Brian had with him it seemed. It... felt freaky weird to him, the way the guy had just let it all go. Like a trick or something. If Yi wanted him dead though, all he'd have had to do was let the order of execution be served. Those weren't a joke. The IPB could basically get such orders without a trial and kill anyone they wanted to, Infected or not, if needed for the public good. What that really meant varied a lot. Denis suspected that Marcia hadn't lied to him about that though. Keeping a class four locked up didn't last and he'd tried to ki
ll a Federal agent. Twice. That would do the trick as far as getting the paperwork he knew.

  And Brian Yi had saved him. Even his power, which the guy didn't control directly at all, had saved him. From an accident even. Brian normally had to go and fight people that tried to kill others. But he'd come to save him anyway.

  Messed up to be sure.

  Better than the alternative by far. Denis had to smile at that, since for a long time he kind of wondered if life had even been worth living, especially at first, locked up alone like he'd been for so long. The bare steel walls still hovered behind his eyes perfectly when he closed them and thought about it. The whole room just sat, waiting for him, inside. There was no escape possible as long as he carried it around with him. Was that what prison was really all about? Making it so that you could never really escape in the end?

  Denis got to the gym about nine-thirty, deciding that if he had to jump out of a plane again, he at least wanted to look good going into the face plant. He couldn't count on Brian to save him if he did that again, that it had happened at all was... amazing.

  Not having been given a workout plan he just did what he used to do. Lift medium heavy weights slowly for a while, get on an exercise bike for about an hour, moving at a brisk, but not too difficult pace and then jog slowly until he didn't feel like it anymore. Not having a physically based power no one had ever ridden him that much about working out. Not even Montrose and he rode just about the whole group constantly.

  Everyone had to put some time in, which apparently meant everyone for real now, as the Director himself starting to jog around the track at about the same time he did.

  “Mr. Tompkins! Good to see you here. I know things can't have really settled for you yet. How are you adjusting?” The concern sounded both real enough and like the older man was just being professionally courteous.

  How he pulled off both at once Denis just didn't know. Probably years of practice.

  “Not bad. It's... hard trying not to be a dick all the time though. People are so stupid. Some of them at least. I guess I should apologize to those Army guys or something. Still, takes one to know one there, they did kind of ask for it.”

  Moore didn't look at him, but grinned as he panted slightly. The old man's foot falls were heavy, but wearing sweats his frame looked a bit funny. It wasn't like the guy really carried a lot of fat around his middle, more of a solid block that didn't jiggle much at all and made his movements a bit stiff. Part of the guy's powers? That gun vanishing trick had worked well enough. Before that Denis hadn't know the man was Infected at all. His first mode must be really mild or at least not too annoying. The guy didn't mention it, so Denis didn't ask. Not his business after all.

  “Well, as to that, it turned out that our friend the general and his assistants were not tasked to run such an investigation by congress and had been working only under the aegis of Senators Hooper and Naismith. Given everything it seems that something is turning out in our favor for once as far as the military is concerned. I have to admit, the whole thing felt a bit suspicious at the time, but given the climate I wasn't about to directly challenge them first. Having you do it worked well though, glad you figured out the plan in time.”

  It had been a plan? News to Denis. He'd really just been cranky and taking it out on the ass-munches. Half of looking cool was not telling people when you'd won by mistake though, so he just nodded and kept running.

  That turned into a bit of a trap. The Director didn't go fast, but did run five miles without stopping. Pacing the seventy-plus year old, Denis couldn't really give up first, could he? Not without looking like a wimp. Thankfully the man finished his run and headed out after eleven laps around the red rubber track that went around the perimeter of the gym. Denis would be a bit sore the next day from it, that was clear. Grinning he got some water and then headed back to his room for a shower and change of clothes.

  On the bed, freshly made up, probably by the maid service, a group of nearly perfect ninja women, he guessed, since he never saw any of them, was laid a nice suit. Denis liked black if he didn't get to have bright colors or garish plaids, if anyone wanted his opinion. This one however was a lightly shining blue gray. After showering, shaving again and making sure no errant hair showed from his nose or ears, he put it on. It fit perfectly, tailored without him even being there somehow? Kind of amazing. That or creepy.

  The very light blue shirt and darker blue tie worked well together. It did look a little soft, especially on his fairly slight frame.

  Trustworthy though. Looking in the full length mirror on the back of the bathroom door he realized that whoever had delivered it meant for that effect to happen. It neared lunch time, but Denis didn't feel hungry really. Breakfast had been big enough to last for a while. Good, but filling. Still, if he didn't want to be known as the stand-offish guy he should make a point of showing up at meals and socializing.

  Denis had gone without people long enough to want to have some around anyway. The dining room door was just off of being directly across from Christian's office, and she poked her head out just in time to see him walking up. Perfect timing, but then she'd known he was coming, right? He nodded to her.

  “Good. A word please Denis?” She spoke softly and politely, so it probably wouldn't be a chewing out. He nodded and went to her without hesitation. One thing the bastards on thirteen had taught him, follow orders fast or it hurt. Even moving quickly he half expected a shock to rip through the floor. The flashback took him by surprise and Chris gasped suddenly.

  “Oh...” She managed to say, her eyes going wide.

  Den locked it down. Fight for Zen, pay attention only to the moment, he told himself. After nearly a minute he relaxed and then she did too. They didn't talk about the memories, since that would have likely triggered them again. Chris knew all those kinds of tricks, Denis was sure. Simple self-defense on her part. You didn't want to trigger people's bad memories if you had to live the flashbacks too.

  Going into her office, she led him wordlessly, using hand gestures, obviously collecting herself, nervously smoothing her emerald nineteen-fifties style dress. Her hair looked different than the last time he'd seen her, shorter and more blond. A lot shorter, around her ears instead of mid back. After a second he smiled.

  “I like your hair.” He said honestly. Lying to her would have been stupid, even if just trying to be polite. Luckily it looked cute on her.

  Smoothing it with a hand she smiled gratefully and gave him a contented look.

  “It's easier to care for too. Anyway, I wanted to remind you of your meeting with Charlot this afternoon. Two o'clock. She mentioned it to me twice already. If you don't go I think she's planning on stapling a memo to your forehead. Given her personality, that may be literal.”

  She'd settled behind her desk and leaned toward him a bit, not bothering to ask him to sit.

  “Also, I couldn't help notice that you and Peggy seem to be getting... friendly. That's fine, good even, but hurt her and we will have an issue.” Her delicate right hand flew up, the gesture a bit haughty, preventing him from speaking.

  “Not that you haven't done very well so far. Impressive really, better than anyone else has, but just remember I can make your life difficult if you damage my friend. Understand?”

  For about five seconds he had to bite back the comments that wanted to come. He'd been doing fine, he thought, only assholes threatened people doing what they wanted them to already anyway. After a second he closed his eyes and forced himself to relax.

  “Alright. Sorry, I need to take it in the context meant, not assume the worst about what you're trying to do. Still...” He tried for a meaningful look. At this range she couldn't block people out much at all, that much he knew from past experience.

  Looking a bit angry she nodded herself. A carry-over from his own feelings? It couldn't be helped, not yet. He hadn't mastered that kind of control. Little rosy patches appeared on her cheeks, either a very cute rage had started or she felt just a l
ittle embarrassed. Neither made that much sense to Denis and she didn't mention why, or even what she was feeling.

  “As long as we're on the same page. I guess that really did seem a bit heavy handed. Sorry. I'm... working on old information. About you I mean. I really keep expecting the worst.”

  Right. Well, she probably should. It would take a while, years maybe, to really change himself and constant application of will. She knew his thoughts well enough to get how hard it had all been for him. Expecting him to become what he used to be again... Yeah, Denis could see it. People could change, they just normally didn't without a lot of incentive.

  Then, not dying or being locked up again kind of had to count that way, didn't it? As a reason to make himself into a better man? Or at least one that didn't annoy the crap out of everyone all the time?

  She nodded at him, responding to his thoughts directly, which felt a little eerie, and then made a shewing motion with her right hand, getting him to move along, though she didn't look displeased for once.

  He crossed the hall on a slight diagonal and went in to see if anyone else was around for lunch. Peggy was there, so after going to the silver serving counter that looked into the kitchen in back and collecting a sandwich and salad from Mark, who made their lunch meals for them for some reason, Denis started to slide into the chair next to her, which had been out about a foot already.

  Halfway down he froze and stood back up, plate still in hand.

  “Oh! I guess I better check... Um, Penny, are you there? Maybe give my arm a tug first so I don't sit on your lap here?” Denis held his jacketed arm out and waited, a few seconds later it started shaking as if on its own. Hard and a bit frantically.