The Infected [Books 1-6]

by P. S. Power

  "Hey! Don't move toward the fence! This area is covered by the IPB. We can't let you in, so you need to back away!" He tried to make himself heard and people clearly did. They just didn't care about what he was saying. It was a bit frustrating, so he tried again. "No, really, we'll have to stop you. Infected people are in here, and we'll use our powers if you don't stop."

  Rather than be sensible, or even clever, doing something like charging in vehicles for instance, they just kept coming, making a lot of racket, a slow chant going up.

  "No more harm. No more harm." It was confusing, but Tobin was willing to bet that they meant, no more harm to the forests. It left him wondering what Wayne had done to the poor thing. Burning was bad, but it didn't seem like enough for this kind of hatred, did it? He would have simply asked, but the people were getting too close and Lady Glory called out, so Denis could hear her.

  "Ready as soon as they reach the wire! We can't talk to them. Ready to open up!" She didn't sound mean and really, Tobin had never heard her do that. She'd gotten the message no doubt, and probably thought they weren't even in the wrong. He didn't know that she supported the environment, but her compassion probably had her thinking that wasn't a bad thing.

  They didn't stop, and the people on the front side got there first, so Tobin followed the plan. He sang. It got the ones that could hear to just stop, dead in their tracks and slowly start to sit down. The crowd went silent, which meant that even more could hear him. As densely packed as they were, it worked really well. After the first verse of old McDonald had a farm, the whole side he and Karen were holding was quietly dazed and not doing anything at all.

  He glanced at the other side and saw that Denis was doing about the same. It was a pretty solid effect, and made a good enough point about who was in charge, so after two more verses, Tobin let it go, ending the song. It was a great one for that, since he could add lines forever, talking about different animals on the farm, or stop after the first one, and it still worked. It was a mental thing, but it meant no one was left in pain at the end. They just had a three minute break and most of them hadn't even hurt themselves going down.

  As soon as he could he called out.

  "Sorry, but you weren't listening. We can't have a protest here tonight. Put the weapons down and go home, please." He tried to be loud and noticed that Denis repeated about what he'd said a half minute later. Even adding in the please, at the end.

  Then, amazingly, they actually did. They dropped the sticks and whatever else they had, got up and walked away, all seeming a bit slow, but leaving without any force being used at all, other than the bit of power they'd put forth. In all, it was incredibly successful.

  Brian walked up to him from behind, "good work. That's one for the record books I think. One of the camera men even got a feed out to the national news of it. They get their fifteen minutes, and we don't look too bad for once." He sounded very please, and looked totally shocked when Tobin spun in place.

  "No! You can't put my singing on the air! Stop them, don't let them play it!"

  Karen coughed.

  "It wasn't that bad. A kids song, but certainly people will understand. I'm sure that we can get the stations to block that part out, if you really need."

  Tobin threw his hands in the air as Christian, the telepath, ran out, screaming at them.

  "Get it off the air! Tobin's singing is affecting people all over the country! Drivers, planes..." Then they got it. Proxy vanished, and so did Mark. The rest of them ran inside to use the phone, to try and contact the news channel that it was playing on. That was the liberal one, naturally.

  For his part Tobin just felt heavy. He wanted to sleep, and to run away, but couldn't. Hopefully it wouldn't be that bad. After all, no one listened to the all news channels in their cars, did they? Or in the pilot's cabin on a plane. A few might have problems in their own homes, but if they got it off fast enough, maybe it would be fine?

  Except that the phone lines were all jammed. Not to everywhere, just the News channel they needed. It was, most likely, people calling in to complain. If that was the case, hopefully they'd get the idea and pull the feed. It was a tense ten minutes, but it had only played twice, they were told. No one knew what was happening yet however.

  It meant a really stressful night, with Tobin not even pretending he was going to be able to sleep, just sitting out and waiting for some kind of news. Everyone else thought it would be fine, and as dawn broke, and one of the crew that had gone home came back in to start cleanup, it wasn't that bad. If what he was told was correct.

  The man was heavyset and bearded, wearing a flannel shirt and a hat that advertized a truck stop from an old movie. He was there to work, but when asked, he stopped to talk about what was on the news.

  "It wasn't too big a deal. About a dozen people hurt, but most of that was minor. An old woman fell and broke her hip, but that was the worst I heard about. I can't see it being that major of a thing. You might have to pay out for some lost wages and hospital bills. Or the IPB might. It depends I guess. Not to be a pain, but I need to get to this. Work, I mean. So far so good, as far as I can tell on that stuff from last night." The man left, and it was clear he thought that was a pretty accurate take on things. It could be worse, other than for the poor people that had been hurt by his singing.

  It wasn't his fault, that was clear. It wasn't anyone's doing really. Even the people putting it on the air had no reason to think that it would do anything at all. He'd known. There was no way to stop what other people did though. There never was. It was kind of central to his life. It was why he couldn't take a walk in a major city after all. Other people doing what they wanted.

  No one else got up for a long time, about two hours, which would have been a great time to get a nap, but he just didn't have the mental calmness to do it. Instead he wandered back to the trailer and just sat in his bed trying not to make too much noise. Denis got up first, then Warren after the rustling of a moving body got his attention, which was good. That way Warren didn't have to wake them up, since he was always worried about disturbing anyone. For all that he kept managing to get himself into fights, he was a good sort of person that way. Nice and quiet for the most part.

  "Good morning." Tobin didn't fill anyone in on the result of the news cast, since things like that could change pretty fast, and the word of mouth report of a person that didn't really care about him might have gotten it wrong, not even meaning to.

  Warren yawned.

  "Hey Tobin. Let me get cleaned up, and then we can get out of here. Are we eating on the plane?"

  Tobin nodded tiredly, and then yawned too. The darned things were catching after all. It was kind of an odd question coming from him. Especially going in that direction. Of course he'd know the answer.

  "Yep. Cold pop-tarts and warm milk. Well, room temperature. We don't want anyone to get sick."

  The man just nodded and started stuffing things into his suitcase. Nothing was clean, but no one had anything left that was. Tobin followed suit and Denis did as well, a few minutes later, finally chiming in about the breakfast situation.

  "We can make a food run on the way to the airport. I'll endorse the Pop-Tarts as long as Mark won't take that as a sign that we need to make them for the show."

  "No promises. It actually isn't a horrible idea, but I agree, let's not mention it right now. After this I could use a half day without thinking about work. Or celebrities."

  It took a long time to get everyone ready. Their people weren't that bad, naturally. The IPB moved a lot, and kept themselves ready at all times. It was the rest of them that were horrible. They either weren't awake at all, or thought that they should have coffee on tap, since they pretty much had the whole rest of the work week. That meant sending out for some, and that meant that someone had to pay for it, since as Alan told them, the money was all gone.

  Christian handled that part, being a generous soul, and really wanting to leave it seemed. It was done on a private card too, which m
eant she had to physically go on the run to Starbucks. That was less than great, given her first mode, but it was just her, Alan and Denis on it, and if she minded the two men overly, it didn't show on her face when they got back. They all just seemed a bit worn down, but not upset.

  Getting back wasn't too hard, but the flight was too short for sleeping on, and Tobin really wanted to go to bed. That probably wasn't going to happen, not headed back to the base. He had a full work day ahead. Debriefing about the night before, and some kind of work out, if they got back in time. It was what almost had to happen. A kind of ritual for anyone returning to the IPB. Worse, to everyone else the holiday special probably seemed like a pleasure trip, even with the protestors there. It was going to be a busy day, one way or the other.

  He wasn't wrong on that score. Not even a little bit.

  In fact, the Director met them at the door of the plane himself, not even waiting for them to get off. The old man didn't yell, but he did point. There was more than a bit of sternness to it. As if he were planning to scold them all, as soon as he had the chance.

  "Charlot, Tobin, I need you to come with me." The way he said it meant that they got Brian as well. That was really just a part of how the man worked. If someone he knew was in trouble, he'd stand with them, no matter what. He'd managed to save a few people that had been falling, or too dazed to stop whatever they were doing. One had been falling face first into a table saw. At midnight. His neighbors had to love him, didn't they? Most of the other stories didn't get told at all, but Brian had turned it off and gotten into the man's bed, as a hint.

  They also had Christian following along, her face set, and eyes looking ready to fight. Hopefully not with the Director, because he was, like it or not, the boss. Also old, so doing that seemed like it would be mean. They headed to his office, sort of, going to a larger conference room off to the right of it instead. It had a nice, and very large, table in it, but white boards along the far wall, which had names on them in red ink already. The whole place was kind of brown and mustard yellow.

  "First the good news." He looked around and finally settled on Tobin. It wasn't all that happy seeming. "No one died, and everyone involved seems willing to settle out of court. Technically it was the television network that was responsible, but it's easier for us to pay then to have them fight it in court. Either way we look bad, but this way it will look at least like we take responsibility for our own actions. It doesn't matter who was actually at fault."

  That didn't set well with Tobin, since it was the good side of things. That meant, in a moment, the man was going to keep talking, instead of doing the wise thing, and stopping right there. He tried to will that to happen, but it didn't work.

  "The negative side is that Congress is about to hear the revised Hooper act, which means that this is already being used to show the danger of Infected to the general public. No one was harmed all that much, but a lot of people are assuming they could have been. Our friends on the news channels are having a field day with it. The worst of it claims that Tobin set the whole thing up in order to try and kill people."

  That sent a chill down his spine. It was the kind of thing that people said, trying to make a point, but when it happened to you, personally, it was sickening. He wasn't a killer. Tobin would have told them not to let it go out on the air. In fact, he had. Screaming it rather loudly at the time, if he recalled correctly. It was just a timing thing. A comedy of errors that had been averted, by and large.

  "Braid." This came from Brian, and sounded so certain that it seemed like he had inside information about it all. "It's why I had the multi-trip trying to stop most of this, I think. She set this in motion, I can feel it." Then he glared at Moore, as if thinking the old man in his gray suit was going to deny that it was possible at all.

  Taking a huge breath and letting it out slowly, the Director paused, taking his time to think before speaking.

  "We can't prove that. Not even in a way that can convince ourselves. It does have a sense of her about it however. The important thing now is to not let this be used as a catalyst to blame the Infected. After Hooper's death we had hundreds of attacks on people that couldn't defend themselves. Most of them were just individuals that have mental health issues, and who aren't Infected at all. This isn't on that level, thank God, but things are far too close to the edge right now. One little thing might be what pushes the government to act. I have to say that I'm more than a bit upset that this was allowed to happen." The hard look went to Proxy, which got a shrug.

  "Me too." Then he tossed his hands up, in obvious frustration. "What? You think I don't get that I should have stopped the camera man? I didn't realize that Tobin's power could travel over the air like that. Still, my power should have warned me more specifically what the danger was. I don't know why it didn't. Maybe this is what has to happen? I don't have a guidebook here. Not even an outline."

  It came out sounding coherent and straightforward, but after thinking about it Tobin knew that he didn't get it at all. What was Proxy trying to say really? That his power of saving people in need should have stopped this? The way it worked out it wasn't that big of a deal. Not in any way that he could tell. People were injured, but it was all small stuff. The big things had been prevented. Disaster averted. People should have been relatively happy, or at least forgiving, shouldn't they? Or they would have been if things weren't so dark at the moment.

  The Director, almost as if he were the mind reader in the room, not Chris, looked away.

  "It's all political. No one should have ever mentioned this at all, but it's in every paper today. The word is spreading that you aren't even safe in your own home. The Goblin will get you, no matter where you hide. That's a quote by the way. A popular one." Then he moved to his chair and sat. "I'm sorry Tobin, but I think we have to remove you from the public eye. Too many people are using you as a means to further their hate agenda at the moment."

  Tobin had to sigh. There went the nice room, and probably the girlfriend. Well, it really had been nice while it lasted. He could get his things packed up and moved to his old room in about five minutes. He had most of it already done, it was just going over everything to make certain he didn't leave anything behind that was needed.

  Brian stared at the wall, the same one that Moore was looking at in fact, to the left. It was a nice golden yellow color of wall paper. It had slightly darker stripes in it and a pattern of tiny flowers. It still managed to seem manly enough, mainly based on the fact that it looked like a woman had picked it out for the space. When the hard looking Asian man spoke, his voice cracked. It was with rage, not just sadness or anything.

  "No. I know this is going to start a fight, but we can't hide him away. This is going to be a fire storm, and I want to protect him too, but the public needs to have a full explanation of this, and to see that he isn't a bad person. We can't make that happen if we bury him, and pretend that he doesn't exist. More than anyone here now, Tobin has to be out front, and stay there. I don't know the best way to do it. Parading him out to apologize won't work either. He didn't do anything wrong, and our enemies will use that as a sign that he did."

  Tobin was fine with that, not really wanting to be on stage groveling. It was the on stage part that was the problem. He could do the other part if he had to, without feeling too bad about it.

  After pacing in the back of the room for a lot longer than seemed normal, Charlot Chambers chimed in, her voice more angry than the situation really seemed to need.

  "No. No apologizing. Tobin will go in front of a group of reporters and explain, but that's all. I agree however, there's no good way out of this. This event will probably destroy his singing career. What parent would let their child listen to music that might have psychoactive properties hidden in it?" She went white lipped and shook a bit, but didn't start to glow anywhere, so while upset, she wasn't about to lose it. Not as far as Tobin could tell.

  What she did next was leave, without explaining anything. It could have be
en to deal with a first mode issue. People did things like that. Or it might have been to get some food or water. It might have been something more complex, but everyone else acted like they already understood it all. He didn't. It was like a wave was crashing down on his life, and nothing he did would stop it at all. He held his breath, inadvertently, but it was moving too slow for that to save him. After all, he could only hold his breath for about ten minutes. When he did have to suck air back in, it came as a sudden gasp, which got everyone's attention. It sounded like he'd had a shocking realization, but that wasn't it at all.

  Christian patted his arm, but seemed incredibly distracted at the same time. Like she was reading the mind of some far off person. That, or just sorry that she was saddled with having him as a son. Brian moved a bit closer to him, but didn't say anything, just looking at the wall.

  The very strange thing was that both of them started to do that and Brian tensed, his eyes going wide.

  "Can I do that? That isn't possible, is it? I never have before."

  Who he was talking to, Tobin didn't know. He had a guess, which would be a dead girl that lived in the man's head. Dharma. Karen Young's little sister, who'd killed herself. They hadn't been friends really, when she was alive, since the girl had been really moody and angsty, which had pushed him to not be around her much, but they hadn't been enemies or anything either. She'd been on Team Two with him.

  His mom shook her head.

  "That seems too unlikely. I can't credit it as being..." She glanced at Proxy, who was closing on Tobin for some reason, and giving him a big hug. It was a bit weird, since he wasn't normally a huggy type of guy, but Tobin didn't pull away. That was because there was a tingling sensation, all over his body.

  "This, is going to hurt. As soon as we get there Tobin, I need you to sing. A full on psychedelic power ballad. Stay ready though, because I don't know if I can get you back. You might have to run to get out alive. There's a crowd of people. You need to get the victims out, I think."