Infected: Die Like Supernovas (The Outlaw Book 2) (23 page)

That DOES sound like fun.

The Outlaw
should
warn Los Angeles. Right? I wrestled with the decision for five days. Was this actually a good idea? Who should I tell about the impending war? Would Carter really kill me?

Samantha Gear was plainly on edge. She kept checking her phone and watching the news. PuckDaddy was only answering my texts with one word responses. Two different Outlaw impersonators (called Law Givers) tried to sneak into Natalie North’s building, and the Outlawyers (Outlaw fan club) were raising money for her to come speak at their meetings. Katie reported Tank was acting even crazier than usual, and she was considering calling things off with him. Woohoo! She and Hannah Walker continued lunching together, which made it hard to hold her hand. We were all sitting on a bomb, with the fuse slowly burning away.

My headaches had largely abated but I could feel insanity creeping in. I’d hear voices or see visions or wake up and realize I’d been unconscious for a few minutes. Mundane happenings seemed hilarious or completely confusing. I assumed the disease was applying more and more pressure on my brain, causing these problems. Cory and Lee kept looking at me askance, like I was a stranger.

No Carter. No Chemist. Nothing happened. I slept as often as I could.

At the end of five days I was ready to explode. This was why Samantha took shots at innocent targets; she was insanely bored, almost literally. I was raging, jumping around my room, breaking rocks in my fist, anything to keep from erupting. I needed to do SOMETHING.

You could warn Los Angeles, came the gentle tug in my mind.

Or I could tell Katie how I truly feel about her.

Which one, which one, which one, eeny meeny miny moe, catch an Infected by the toe.

I was going to warn Los Angeles. Katie was MUCH scarier.

I pulled on the Outlaw outfit. The Outlawfit. Hah! I’m so funny. I zipped up a jacket over the vest to avoid being recognized, because I’m sooooooo famous and awesome. I stuffed the mask and bandana into my pocket. I grabbed my helmet. I got on the bike. And then I rode off to save the day.

First! I needed to get control of my emotions and thought processes. Done! Maybe! After I’d driven several miles from my house I turned on the disposable phone and called Isaac Anderson, Captain of the Universe, Mr. FBI himself.

Straight to voicemail.
This is Special Agent Isaac Anderson, please leave me a detailed message. Beeeeep.

Noooo! I called again.
This is Special Agent Isaac Anderson, please leave me a detailed message. Beeeeep.

“What kind of FBI agent are you?” I shouted through the phone. “You’ll have to read about this on the front page like everyone else, because you wouldn’t answer your phone. This is the Outlaw, by the way.” I hung up.

Well, now what? I didn’t want to do an interview on television. So that left the radio, or the newspaper, or the internet. Newspaper sounded good, but I didn’t know any writers. In fact I only knew the name of one reporter, and she worked on television. Oh well, she could write, couldn’t she?

I dialed the news station.

“Channel Four News. How can I help you?”

I said, “Put me through to Teresa Triplett, please.”

“I’m sorry sir, but she’s gone for the day. Would you like her voicemail? Or can someone else assist you?”

“This is urgent and I need to speak with her,” I growled as I drove past an ice cream shop teeming with parents and their children.

“May I ask who is calling and what this is in reference to?”

“I’m the Outlaw and I need to warn Los Angeles,” I said. As soon as the words spilled out, I realized it was the lamest thing I would ever say even if I lived to be a million.

“Sir,” the lady sniffed. “You’re the third Outlaw that’s called in today.”

“What?? Ugh! What is
wrong
with people? Hang on. I’ll call you back.” I hung up, switched phones, and rang Natalie North. This was so dumb. Spider-Man never has this problem.

“Well hello there stranger!” Natalie North bubbled into the phone.

“I need a favor.”

“Anything,” she said. “Come over.”

“I need you to call the Channel Four news station and tell them I’m about to contact them. They don’t believe it’s me.”

“How do I know it
really is
you unless you come over?” she teased.

“Natalie!” I yelled at her.

“Okay okay!” she squeaked. “I’ll call them. If they don’t believe me then I’ll have my agent yell at them. Give me three minutes.”

“Thank you.”

“Come over when you’re done?” she asked.

“No. Maybe. Isn’t it a school night for you? Nevermind. I can’t. Well, maybe. Just call.”

I drove around a ritzy shopping mall for five minutes, which should give Natalie plenty of time, and then called Channel Four again.

“Channel Four News,” said a shaky voice.

“Believe me now?” I asked, perhaps a little too hotly.

“Yes sir, and I’m sorry about that, sir.”

“No problem,” I grinned inside my helmet.

“I have Teresa Triplett waiting for you.”

“Great! Put me through.”

“One more thing, sir. Miss Natalie North asked me to give you a message. She wants you to come visit later.”

I sighed and said, “Please don’t repeat that to anyone. And put me through to Teresa.”

I told Teresa Triplett to keep this a secret but she didn't. I was hiding on one of the L.A. Times’ lower roofs, well before our rendezvous, and I spied three cameramen sneaking around. They remained far enough away from our meeting location (the very top of the building, under the flag pole) that I didn’t worry about them.

Now I had to figure out what I wanted to say…

…and then I woke up. I yawned, shook my head and looked around. I hate it when that happened. Without warning, boom! Knocked out.

I glanced at my watch. Whoops! I’m late. I yanked the mask up from around my neck, tied on the bandana and JUMPED! I sailed into the black sky and over the uppermost roof of the many tiered building. I didn’t blame Samantha Gear for being jealous; this was awesome. I plummeted down and landed beside the dark, still form of Teresa Triplett. She jumped and gasped, which was wonderfully gratifying.

While I stifled another yawn, she looked around wild-eyed, searching for something to say. She had interviewed Chase Jackson once, before the previous football season, so I kind of knew her. She was pretty and seemed much more confident when I used to be a normal seventeen year old.

“Hello,” she said finally. I nodded in reply because I didn’t know how to start and also because I’d discovered people
expected
me to be quiet. “So why’d you choose me?”

“What do you mean?” I growled at her.

“Why do you want to talk to
me
?” she asked and her voice was shaky. I suppose this
was
an intense experience for her, meeting on the roof of a tall building in the middle of the night with guy in a mask. “Instead of other more famous reporters?”

“Oh,” I shrugged. “I don’t know that many reporters. And you seem nice.”

“How’d you get up here? Do you have abilities that I don’t have? That question sounds absurd, even to my ears,” she said. I frowned, wondering how I could phrase this, debating how much I could reveal to her. She continued, “Did you fly up here? Like a superhero?”

“No,” I chuckled. “That’s hilarious. No. There’s no such thing as super heroes. In fact, I’m sick.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I’m very sick, and it’s possibly fatal,” I said and I decided not to elaborate. Carter was going to be pissed enough already.

“Fatal?” she asked, writing things down on her notepad. I’m sure she was recording the conversation too. “With what illness?”

“Nevermind,” I said, dropping my voice to a deep growl again. “Shouldn’t have said anything. That’s not why I’m here.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I want you to pass along a message.”

“To who?” she asked, looking mystified.

“To everyone.”

“What message?”

At that instant the bluetooth headset in my ear blared to life. I didn’t even answer it; the device just turned on somehow. The very distinguishable voice of PuckDaddy yelled, “You fool! You idiot! What are you doing?”

I didn’t say anything to either of them. I stared into space. This was it. I was crossing some sort of threshold from which there could be no return. I was making powerful enemies.

“Chase. Outlaw. Just stop. Abort. Don’t do this. You’re dead if you do. Seriously, stupid. Carter will waste you for sure,” PuckDaddy said.

“Are you okay?” she asked. “Is something wrong? What message?”

“Outlaw. No way. Don’t. Cancel, cancel,” in my ear.

I took a deep breath and told Teresa, “I’m not the only one.”

“Oh no,” PuckDaddy groaned. “You’re toast. Damn it. So dumb. You’re dead.”

“You’re what?” Teresa Triplett asked, leaning towards me.

“There are others,” I said, stronger. This felt…correct. This was good. I was doing the right thing. “There are others like me. And they are already here. Lots of them. In Los Angeles. And we’re all in danger.”

PuckDaddy sighed loudly.

“Wow, okay,” Teresa babbled. “You mean, they can jump like you? We have video of you flying or jumping or… something.”

“Yes. And other things.”

“Like what kind of other things?” she asked. She was no longer taking notes, simply staring intently, urgently.

“Anything a human can do, they can do much much better. And some of them are not nice.”

“Who are they?”

“They are hidden, living in the shadows. I don’t know their real names, but I can tell you that one of them is called the Chemist,” I said, emboldened by the truth.

“The Chemist? The gang leader in south Los Angeles?”

“Right. I’m still learning too. But I believe the Chemist and his army will revolt soon, and our law enforcement agencies need to be ready.”

“Ready for what?” she asked.

“War. In our streets.”

“Wait!” she cried as I turned to go. “This…this is a lot to absorb. Do you have to leave?”

“Yes.”

“What you just said is insane. You want to warn the city but all this is…impossible. How can this be true?”

“You’ll have to trust me,” I said simply. “Will you help us? If there’s a war in our city?”

“Of course.”

I jumped into the clouds.

“You should have consulted with me first,” PuckDaddy scolded as I walked south on Alameda. My mask was stowed in my pocket.

“You’d have just warned me not to.”

“Affirmative. Now listen close. This is the last time we’re ever going to communicate. Otherwise I’m dead too. You can’t return home.”

“I bet Carter bugged my room,” I said.

“Your room’s been bugged for two months, dummy. He’ll kill you tonight in your sleep. Go somewhere else. Off grid. Forever. Don’t go back to school. Move far away and burn your phones. Both phones. Turn off the wifi on your bike. I can’t track you if you disappear. Live in a desert. Okay?”

“This isn’t goodbye, Puck,” I laughed. “Once the war starts, Carter will realize that I’m on his side.”

“You’ll be dead by then, Outlaw. I’m sorry.”

“Talk to you soon, buddy.”

“No. You won’t. PuckDaddy out.” Click. The line went dead.

I smiled, shook my head, and called Natalie North.

“Yeeeees?” she said.

“Hey. I’m downstairs in your lobby and I need to hide for a while. And it can’t be in your building. Help me find a place?”

“Funny you should mention that. I have just the spot,” she said. “But it’s not ready yet. I need a few more days.”

“Meet me down here in five minutes. And bring some food, I’m starving.”

Then I turned off the Outlaw’s phone, perhaps for the last time.

Katie

“Has Tank texted you yet?” Hannah Walker asked. We were sitting together at our usual table, heads together conspiratorially. It was great! I think authentic friendship with another girl was so novel to both of us that we might be over-indulging in it. I missed sitting with my guys, but Chase wasn’t here today anyway. Neither was Samantha Gear. Chase had been absent yesterday too and he wasn’t answering my texts. School was no fun without him.

“No,” I admitted.

“Katie! Do you see? That’s so messed up of him!” Hannah said with surprising vigor. “Boys are the worst.”

“They ARE the worst! Ugh. Besides-”

“He can’t just show up, make out, and then not call you. You’re Katie Lopez, gorgeous Latina and our future valedictorian. You’re not some booty call.” Hannah was indignant.

“I think I’m going to call things off with him,” I sighed. “We just live on different planets.”

“No. I have a better idea,” she said and her eyebrows arched in victory.

“What?”

“We’re going to spy on him.”

“No!” I laughed. “No way. I’m not a stalker.”

“Please!” she said. “It’ll be fun! We’re not stalkers. We’ll be like investigators. You know where he lives. Tonight is Friday night and we’re not doing anything-”

“Because we’re lame,” I chimed in.

“Because we’re lame and our boyfriends hate us,” she agreed. “But he’ll probably go out tonight and we can follow him. We can determine if he’s dating other girls too.”

“Wow…I think I’d rather not know.”

“No. This is great. I’m picking you up at four. We want to get there early before he leaves his house.” I could tell she was gathering steam and I wasn’t going to talk her out of this. Besides, I guess this was better than sitting at home on a Friday night?

“He lives in a condo. Not a house.”

“Whatever, shut up, people in the city are weird. It’ll be fun!”

Hannah Walker’s car is as gorgeous as she is but she drives like a woman possessed. I held my breath for a two-mile stretch on Interstate 5 while she battled and cursed at a delivery truck! We missed our exit so she roared to the San Bernadino Freeway at almost a hundred miles per hour to make up the time. Miraculously, a parking spot was available within sight of his building’s entrance. I had ten dollars in quarters to feed the meter, which would buy us three hours.