Infected 8: Impulse: A Whole New Day

by P. S. Power

  It also got the other girl to start breathing, and after a few minutes, stand up. Not totally well, but alive and breathing.

  "Fuck." She also croaked like a frog. "What the hell? No one's that fast. Why aren't the police shooting us? They came and tried to take Wren, so we had to fight. They claimed that she'd been menacing people, but she can't. She'd really quiet and nice, all the time."

  Bridget shrugged.

  "I get it. A gentle first mode? Well, she can still join up. We have phones to answer, or will soon. Public to meet and greet, that kind of thing. Here's the deal. Come with us and stop fighting here and you get a full pardon for it. From the President. If you start fighting again, I'll be forced to kill you. I mean, unless I tell you to. If your first mode isn't something you can control, let me know now, and we'll hold you back from the rest of the combat." She looked at the healer, who flipped her off.

  "Fucking cunt, bitch." She looked at the others and grimaced. "Assholes."

  Bridget grinned. It was nasty, but not an attack.

  "What's that, some kind of Tourette's syndrome?" She managed to sound curious, not accusing and the one she'd nearly killed, who'd teleported next to her, nodded.

  "Yeah, she can't really help it. She isn't violent though." There was a hard swallow, but her voice still seemed to be getting clearer, as if the healing was still going on.

  Wren, the bird looking one, had feathers on her head, and an honest to god beak. No wings however, but she did have neat black claws. The fourth girl was... Just kind of plain. She'd been the one that had thrown the car at her.

  It had hit her, too. That was pretty good aim. Bridget didn't exactly present a huge target.

  "What's your deal? First mode and power, I mean?"

  "I'm just always a bit sad. I don't know if it's that thing. A mode. I can make any metal I touch do what I want."

  They didn't have time for a lot more info unfortunately, and she got them to agree to join up. Wren, who was, as they'd been told, very nice, admitted that her power was really small. It was, silly, too.

  "I can sing really well. Um, like this?" It was pretty, and she had a significant range, but it wasn't going to help her in a fight, was it? If Tobin ever got to do another record, this was someone to put on it with him, though. She was nearly as good, and since almost no one was, they'd be able to do some amazing things song wise, she bet. That would take the man coming back from the dead, of course, but eventually that might happen. When they won the war.

  They moved from place to place after that, with her only having to kill about half of the people they faced. The Doyles and Zevros helped too, none of them seeming too concerned with her methods. They were basically join with her or die, but right up until they got to Chicago, they pretty much worked. Yes, some of the people didn't calm down in time, or didn't even try, but a lot of them did. More than she ever would have thought.

  Leaving her with a tiny army of new recruits.

  When they got to Chicago however, the city was on fire. It wasn't just a war zone, but an insane one. There was no chance to offer a pardon, or any other sort of bribe. No threats either. It was, she realized, simply time for her to be what everyone had always feared she would in the end. A killer. She'd taken lives before, that day even, but suddenly it was all she was doing. Just moving from one person, to another, taking away handguns and rifles, and executing anyone that didn't stop fighting instantly. She used her force blasts, which got stronger as she went along, stripping away bullet proof body armor like it was tissue paper and cutting through every kind of force field it encountered. She didn't know how many died at her hands, but an hour later her new crew was able to work cleanup. That had to mean that a lot had gone down in front of her, to get things calmed down that quickly.

  It was a dismal sight, but the fighting had stopped, since people were simply afraid to move now. Anyone that did was killed. By Impulse.

  "Go to your homes, or at least get off the street! We can't protect you now, so hide! Flee if you can, lest doom befall you! Turn away from the plotting of the Timberland witch! Your savior from the IPB has come to rescue you! Now it is incumbent upon you each to save yourselves, so flee! Run and do not seek to see what follows behind, I beg of you!" It was Chatty the Doyle that said all that. He looked to be about thirty or so, but the words worked, which was amazing. Who would have thought that anyone would understand them? Then the basic message wasn't that hard to process, was it? Run and hide? Check.

  People were already prone to doing both of those things. Telling people to do what they already kind of wanted to was normally pretty effective.

  In the end they stopped the fighting, everyone else repeating the basic message, and Bridget killing everyone that couldn't get away fast enough, or who looked hostile. She honestly tried to keep it to that second one. Finally it was Mary and Chatty that approached her. The man went to his knees, and bowed his head.

  "Mistress, are you well? Does the casting of battle take you beyond reason?"

  "Sorry? No. I'm good. I need to get cleaned up. There was too much wasted life here, tonight. Now, I need to talk to the President. After a shower, if I can get one. Would it be all right if we check in at the Sho? I... probably have to be yelled at for a while." Offering Pardons... It was going to cost her, she didn't doubt.

  A whole lot.

  Worse, she'd kind of lost it for a while there. She'd taken out at least two hundred people, killing them without mercy. She'd barely been aware that she'd been doing it at the time. No matter who they were, Infected, normal or even the police, if they tried to stop her, they got hit. Most of her new people had just talked to people and gotten them to calm down and leave. She'd been... Strange. Not angry or anything like that, just mechanical in her destruction. When people hadn't done the right thing, to her way of thinking, she ended them. Pouncing with speed and grace, or a wave of her energy carrying hands.

  Shivering now, from a need to replace all she'd used up, she got Mary to take them back to the old shoe shop. They actually came out in front of the building, the glass door and big windows showing that Marcia and Doug were both in. She had... Counting she shook her head. There were sixteen of them in all. Seven aliens, plus Mary, herself and seven new people. They'd picked up a strong looking man with a bald head and brilliant green eyes, in L.A. to round things out. He'd been looting, actually, but was willing to take a pardon in exchange for not having to die.

  Because when you had the power to walk through walls, why spend money on anything? She could sort of see that one too, and had fought to not agree with the man when he'd said it.

  They all followed her inside, not responding to the empty space inside, which was good, since not having much, other than a few folding chairs and a card table that had come from somewhere, meant they all fit. It wasn't a huge space, with nineteen people in it.

  "Hey Marcia. I don't suppose you could get the President on the line? I've been all over the Country offering people pardons tonight. If he doesn't back me, then we're lying to everyone and claiming that none of these people were there tonight. They were all here, getting things set up, no matter what the cameras say." She grinned and looked at everyone, her stomach growling a bit. "So don't worry, you're IPB now. We have your backs."

  Marcia nodded.

  "I have a number I can try. I was holding off, but... Yeah. Let's give it a shot? Now, you have everyone you collected here? Some of them seem... Different?"

  That got Wren, the bird girl to tense up and hunch in on herself, but it was clear to everyone else that she meant the Doyles and Zevros.

  "Oh, right! Introductions then. Zevros Wyrdcraft is Mary's son. My uncle? These others all have names I think, but I only know that they're all of the Doyle family. They swore in as deputies, so, you know, they're under our protection while they're here. They really helped get things calmed down tonight. Good fighters too, but not hung up on it. They used their words, and saved a lot of lives that way. It was impressive." She meant it, a
nd that showed, she thought, since several of them bowed in her direction. Just polite ones though. Not begging for their lives. That looked different, she bet. Lower to the ground and humble. These looked courtly. Like something from television.

  She looked at the others, and sighed.

  "I didn't get names for anyone else. These are the ones that could get a hold on themselves. Some of them killed people, but it was all in self-defense. We should get a list of names. Um, Doug, Ken, could you two do that? I have to shove food into my face now. There should be enough for everyone, if anyone needs something?"

  "Fuck you! Turnip slut!" It was the Tourette's like first mode girl. Bridget explained.

  "Low to mid level healer. I figured that she could field calls when we want people to go away? Sorry..." She didn't know her name, so asked. Finally. "Your name is?"

  The girl was about seventeen or so and had a nice hat on, made out of velvet. It was black and floppy. It went with the white and black shirt that hugged her body closely.

  "Phoebe. Cunt."

  She nodded, "Sorry, Phoebe. I shouldn't make fun of you, and didn't mean to. I'm just getting tired. It's been a day and a half."

  Everyone nodded, and Chatty Doyle explained for those that weren't there.

  "Those words hold truth, beyond the surface. See how even now she is covered with the blood of those that did not heed her words? She entreated all to join her, but those that declined met with swift and certain demise. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, ended their last breath at the magical light of her regard, if not her delicate hands." The others nodded, including the tall bald man.

  He looked at Marcia and gave a rugged and slightly roguish smile. He had a British accent, or something close to that, though Bridget couldn't place it to anywhere specific.

  "No shite, either. She dropped anyone that didn't stop instantly, in Chicago. I didn't think anyone could have done that. She was facing off with twenty Infected at one point, and they didn't last fifteen seconds, for the entire group. It was frightening. I nearly soiled my pants."

  She went to the back, and no one followed her. They didn't have a bath or shower, but she was able to wash up really well in the bathroom sink, and changed into a second set of clothing. It was similar, but had black trousers instead of green and brown. The deep blue shirt had TCC on it in white. Nice big letters too, so everyone would know she was both tidy, and in good with Jesus. When she came out, no one commented on that part of things.

  They probably thought she was being a hipster.

  She got to eat at least and a few of the others joined her, though no one just hit the food like she did. As she finished a cold burrito, skipping the hot sauce since she'd forgotten to get any, Marcia walked over to her.

  "Phone for you. The President? He sounds pissed." She was smiling when she said that, but Bridget figured that it was real enough.

  Except that it wasn't. When the man spoke he sounded friendly, even.

  "Miss Chambers? This is Michael Lawrence. Director Turner mentioned that you wanted to talk to me about something?"

  She nodded, then spoke, since even her head full of rocks wasn't going to clank enough to be heard over the phone.

  "Right. I handed out about two or three hundred Presidential pardons tonight. It was done to get people to calm down. Not all of them could. I had to kill a lot of people. You'll back that, right? If it becomes an issue, I mean? Give people those pardons?"

  There was silence, and she waited to be told no. For a second that seemed real, and like the only thing that could happen, since she had no right to speak for the man, and had overreached so far that her shoulders should have popped from the socket.

  "We should be able to handle this in other ways. I understand however, and if it's needed, I'll back your play. What the hell, it's my second term anyway, so I don't have to stand for reelection. Do you have plans for the future?"

  She didn't think so, but her mouth loved to talk, so did it anyway.

  "Yeah. You need to make a statement and let people know that from now on there won't be anything like this. People tried to take advantage of the IPB being gone, but we're not. We'll have a press thing here tomorrow, too. Marcia will do that, so that I don't start cussing on live television. The thing is, this is it. This is everyone's one free pass. No more pardons or miss nice guy. Today people got lucky, since we had a sharp crew with us, but we can't afford to let people think that starting a war is a good plan."

  "I see. I'll send that basic message to my speech writers and see if we can't make it sound a little less like I plan to use the IPB to assassinate anyone that doesn't agree with me. Now, what do you need? I know that things can't be settled there yet. I saw a clip of that bomb earlier."

  The phone was heavy in her hand, and her eyes wanted to close, all on their own. That was just because it had gotten around to bed time. She didn't have one of those, but she'd make do.

  "We have seven new Operatives and no place to put them. Um, also we have seven aliens with us. Don't worry, once we pass some messages off to them, they can go back home, I think. Great guys, so not a problem. Alternate reality, not different planet, in case it comes up. I don't know if that's been mentioned to you at all?"

  "Does this have to do with the Elcampayn children?" His tone had gone from a bit tired to frigid in a single line. She felt impressed. She could have done the same, but wouldn't have done it as well by half. That was probably why people let him lead, she decided. The man had mad skills. Presidential ones.

  "Yeppers. They're gone though, off to find a new source of energy for their world, from another reality. These people need it, in order to save their planet. It isn't really our problem, but they're peaceful, as far as we're concerned. We're getting them hooked up. They'll have to agree not to let bad things happen to the new power sources, but I think that will work. I'll handle that part. I suppose you'll want all this in writing? It might take a few days. I can write, but it takes some time. Editing mainly." She did all right that way, as long as she had a computer. "So, what do I need? A facility? Someplace with beds and food? Showers would be a plus? Other than that, I just need some sleep. How about you?"

  The man sighed, and then made a sound she was nearly certain was a chuckle.

  "After today? A few hundred more of you? I trust that you're all going to be standing by to help, if anything happens?" It was an order. A politely worded one, but she wasn't fooled. She knew when someone was bossing her around.

  She just didn't care, at the moment.

  "Yeah. Yes, sir. The IPB is here, and ready." She looked over at Marcia, who really was, and then Doug, who stood a little straighter. The girls all looked either scared or upset, and the rest seemed very uncertain of themselves. Well, not the aliens, who all seemed remarkably pleased, to tell the truth. Whatever that was about.

  Mary was smiling hugely, too. It took her a moment to realize why. She'd just told the President, her big boss, that she'd make sure that the situation in their world would be handled. Fixed. Since they had to be panicking over it all that was probably nice to hear. Of course, she didn't really know what to do that way, other than follow the plan they already had.

  Maybe send a note to Morten Wester, and get him on board as well? That family was supposed to be filled with really smart people, and were said to be totally honest. That didn't mean they couldn't make mistakes or still be pricks, but it was the best bet, so far when it came to making an alliance.

  The President's voice was right in her ear, and sounded confident. No matter what the man really felt. Again, skills that transcended the moment.

  "Let me know if you need anything for your work, Miss Chambers. I'll have people in touch with you in the morning. Get some of that sleep, and make sure you stay sharp. Could you hand me back to Director Turner?" That happened without comment, since it made sense to the other woman. She was in charge now, after all.

  There was some murmuring, several yes sirs, and absolutely no speaking about the people fro
m another reality at all. She yawned and looked around, finally noticing that Kenny had a yellow legal pad and a pen, which she borrowed without asking, her face smiling.

  Then she flipped for a while, since she needed a clean page.

  No one asked her what she was working on, which was an outline of their plan for Hobb's world. She called it that too. Right there in print, and out loud, to the people from there. After all, he was the super villain that had stolen that world's energy source from them. Even if the kids could go back, she doubted that he would. They'd pretty much still have to kill him, for what he'd done. It was the right thing, and not an easy one.

  An entire people would also revile his name, for generations, no matter how it all turned out. Especially the leaders that might lose some power now that the Elcampayns were coming back.

  She tried not to make it sound fancy, or confusing, making certain that she explained everything she could, and pointing out the places where she couldn't. Her handwriting was neat enough, and small, since her little fingers were good for that.

  When she was done with it, still sitting at the little card table, she turned the four pages around and gestured for Mary to read them. She did, her face set, until she got to the end. Zevros went next, then each of the others from that world.

  The girls and the bald man were sitting on the floor, sharing a bag of corn chips. The old black woman stood in a corner, nearly vanishing in the shadows. Her friend, Purple Light, wasn't actually her personal buddy it turned out. They'd just met that evening, trying to keep a crowd from killing a little girl that looked a bit like a lizard. Two strangers who lost their entire worlds, because they'd tried to do the right thing.

  Except that didn't have to be the case. They were IPB now, and had to be, but having most of the people in one physical place was clearly a poor idea. There was really no good reason for them not to keep their own homes if they wanted, and be with their families and friends. If they stuck around, now that the world knew what these people really were.