Infected: Die Like Supernovas (The Outlaw Book 2) (25 page)

I spent Wednesday and Thursday night in an extravagant hotel room downtown. Natalie paid for it without my knowledge. I passed the hours by watching the news, working out in the hotel gym, and soaking in the giant jacuzzi tub. Not a bad life. Even the disease gave me a vacation; I slept and felt great.

I texted Dad and told him I’d be spending the night with Cory. But if I didn’t figure out how to appease Carter soon then I’d need to come up with some other excuse.

On Friday, after Natalie’s college classes ended, we went out for dinner. It was the nicest restaurant I’d ever been in; there were white tablecloths and candles! She dressed in disguise and no one noticed her. The diners adjacent to our table were discussing the Outlaw’s newspaper interview. To my astonishment, Natalie’s fascination with the Outlaw did not slacken as she spent more time with his mild-mannered alter ego, Chase Jackson. She plied me with countless questions about the masked man and his nighttime shenanigans. After she swore to secrecy, I told her about the Infected and the Chemist and PuckDaddy and the FBI and the Sniper. I left out Tank because she knew him.

“This is unbelievable,” she said when I was done. Our dinner was finished. “I mean…it’s the most incredible story I’ve ever heard.”

“Yeah, it’s wild.”

“So now you’re just waiting around, biding your time until the Chemist starts a big fight?” she asked with a faraway look.

“Basically. Then I’ll help Carter deal with him and any Infected we find, and everything will be back to normal.”

“You hope,” she said.

“I hope.”

“It sounds dangerous.”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “But I’m okay with that. My body is…weird now, and I think it needs action and excitement almost as much as sleep or food. I can’t run from it.”

“Okay. This is too perfect. My surprise for you is ready. Let’s go look,” she said with the wild-eyed smile of an excited little girl. We walked back to her building to fetch my motorcycle. “Bikes make me nervous. I’ll meet you.”

She gave me the address and she set off to walk there. I rode to the location she’d provided, five blocks away It was an enormous Self-Storage warehouse on 6th street.

“You got me a storage unit?” I asked, bemused, when she showed up.

“Yes! Come on!”

She led me deep inside the structure to a rear deluxe unit. She used a key to take off the padlock and I raised the roll-up steel door. The extra large unit had been transformed from a bare industrial concrete bunker to a fully furnished hideout. Carpets had been installed and maps hung on the walls. A made bed was in one far corner and a computer desk in the other. A blue couch faced a flat screen television. Several large lockers and trunks had been pushed against the walls. So had two mini-fridges.

“There’s food and water and a place to recharge your bike. And a heater if it gets cold. And extra clothes. And disposable phones and tablets and a laptop and everything!”

“Natalie, what…” I was speechless.

“You need a base here in the city,” she explained. “It’s dangerous not to. Just don’t make too much noise. Technically people aren’t allowed to live in storage units.”

“This is too much.”

“Oh and there’s money,” she remembered.

“Money?”

She opened a desk drawer
stuffed
with stacks of cash. Each stack was worth five hundred dollars. I didn’t know that amount of money
existed
in one place.

“There’s twenty-five thousand in cash,” she said. “I think. I also put a check card in here for you, which accesses a bank account with five hundred thousand dollars.”

“Five hundred thousand…” I repeated but my knees got weak and I sank into the desk chair. “Natalie. You can’t.”

“Yes I can.”

“No. This is far too much.”

“Outlaw, I have so much money. I have six million dollars in my checking account. Twice that in a savings account. And it just sits there. This is the most fun I’ve ever had with it. Additionally, you’re a good man and I know you’re responsible and this is important. Los Angeles is getting crazy and you’re our rallying cry. And after your interview in the newspaper yesterday? You set the whole world on fire and it’s going to get even more dangerous.”

I didn’t know how to respond. What do you say to such blind loyalty?

“Besides,” she continued with a coy smile. “Once you realize you’re in love with me this can be our love nest.”

Natalie had a swanky party to attend. She begged me to accompany her but I declined, pointing out that I might be recognized. Instead, I settled into my new hideout. I plugged in the bike, inventoried the lockers and storage trunks, watched television, and surfed the internet. With the door rolled down, the room was pleasantly warm. I didn’t check my email or Twitter or anything else because PuckDaddy would be monitoring their access and could track the log-in information. I wished I could talk with him. Or Samantha Gear. Or Katie. Katie!

I texted her from my disposable phone. It was late. I hoped it wouldn’t wake her. She called back instantly.

“Chase,” she said. There was a lot of background noise. “I’m in trouble. A lot of us are.” Her voice was shaky.

“What? What’s wrong?”

She screamed and the line clicked dead. I leapt off the couch and called her back but the call wouldn’t go through.

“What’s going on,” I said out loud, panic rising in my throat. I turned on the television and started scanning for a news channel. “Come on Katie. Answer.” I dialed again but the call wouldn’t connect. I tried again and again before stumbling across CNN.

Finally the sixth call went through.

“Chase! I’m so scared,” she cried.

“Tell me exactly where you are,” I demanded.
Compton
. Home of the Chemist. My heart sank. What on earth was she doing there?! CNN came back from a commercial break and immediately put a map of Los Angeles on the screen. Police were reporting a bizarre traffic jam in south LA. All of the freeways surrounding Compton were blocked by stalled vehicles. Videos from phones showed people running down the highways, abandoning cars. It would take days to clear the mess. The city of Compton was neatly boxed in. It had to be the Chemist. This was it. He was making his move.

“I’m coming to get you.”

I hit the stopped traffic on Highway 110 three miles north of Katie’s location at one in the morning. The Compton congestion was causing snarls everywhere. Most travelers were beginning to abandon their vehicles, fearing reports of masked gunmen ahead. Some still waited in their cars, hopelessly marooned but exhausted. I glared down the jammed highway, furious at this obstacle.

My Outlaw costume was earning startled second glances. Guy next to me rolled down his window and said, “Hey, you the Outlaw?”

I turned on the Outlaw’s phone for the first time in several days.
Puck, it’s me. Katie’s trapped in Compton. I’m going to call you. You better freaking answer.

Before I could dial him, he called me. His voice came through my helmet. “There you are! Where have you been, dummy??”

“Hiding. You told me to,” I snarled.

“I didn’t mean it, jerk. Or, whatever. Don’t ever leave again.”

“Katie is trapped,” I said. I began slowly picking my way through the vehicles at three miles per hour. There were too many pedestrians and too many car doors ajar to open up the throttle. I wanted to scream.

“I know, I just located her phone. She’s near one of those big loopy pretzel shaped highway interchanges, about three and a half miles ahead. She’s alive, dude. She just texted her mother.”

“You think this is the Chemist?”

“No doubt,” he replied.

“Where are Shooter and Carter?”

“On their way. East of you, going through the neighborhoods. It’s go time, baby!” He sounded giddy.

“Chemist must have hundreds of guys working with him, right? He hijacked twenty miles of interstate.”

“Right you are. Carter is shocked. But the plan remains the same. Remove the Chemist, let the rest fall apart.”

“Any sign of the target?” I asked.

“Negative. I zeroed in a satellite and I’m running facial recognition programs on all media pumping out of that area. But he’s staying in the shadows so far. Hey, Shooter is on my other line. I’m piping her into this call.”

“Why not Carter too?”

“He doesn’t love technology like the rest of us. Shooter, you hear me?”

“Yeah, I’m here,” she said. “En route to the target. Welcome back, Outlaw.”

“Samantha,” I said. “Katie is in Compton.”

“What?!” she shouted in my ear. “Why?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Damn it! Damn it damn it damn it!”

“I’m coming to help,” I said. “But Katie is my number one priority.”

“This is why Carter says not to get attached,” she grumbled under her breath. “Now I’m worried about a high school junior. Damn it.”

“Are you with Carter?”

“We got separated.”

The pedestrians were jumping out of the way as I advanced. Some of them began recognizing me and they waved. First one guy put his hand up for me to High Five. Then another. And another. News of my approach flew down the interstate. Before long I had a corridor lined with smiling faces and cameras.

“My journey is not going unnoticed,” I commented inside my helmet.

“Of course it isn’t,” Samantha sighed. “That’s what you do.”

“This is ridiculous.” The crowds actually cheered. Drivers were backing their cars out of my way, hastening my headlong dive towards Katie. Into the jungle. Into madness.

PuckDaddy said, “You guys want some more fun news?”

“Not really,” Samantha replied.

“Our old pal Tank is in Compton too,” he said.

“Oh. Great,” I said. Shooter and Puck fell quiet. We were all thinking the same thing: t
hat’s
why Katie was in Compton. She was with Tank. Not with me. I burned with embarrassment and jealousy. But why had he taken her there? She hadn’t mentioned him on the phone. “What’s he doing there? Could Tank be working with the Chemist?”

PuckDaddy responded, “No way. I’ve been monitoring his texts for weeks. Tank hates the Chemist. Also, Tank is in his car about a mile from Katie. I don’t think they drove to Compton together.”

“I’m confused. And pissed,” I said.

“Wow,” Puck said. “Think about this. When you three get there, that’ll be the highest concentration of Infected in… what? A hundred years? Seriously. This is awesome! Woooooooo!!”

“PuckDaddy. Focus,” Samantha ordered.

“It’s times like this I wish I could walk. I’d jump so high!” PuckDaddy shouted.

“You can’t walk?” I asked, stunned.

“Long story,” he replied. “I’ll fill you in later. I can barely think right now, the disease is so loud in my ears.”

“Wait, why can’t you walk?”

“Outlaw. Focus,” Samantha ordered.

I focused just in time to witness a shift in the crowds. They started screaming and running. That can’t be good. They flew past me. I pulled the bike into the shelter behind a car, out of the stampede. Beyond the fleeing mob, in the light of a streetlamp, I caught sight of men in masks. Four of them calmly approached, carrying guns and axes.

“Bingo. Four masked gunmen heading north,” I said.

“Don’t let them see you.”

“Too late,” I said and I dove behind a blue Honda Accord. They opened fire with pistols, unloading into the car from a range of fifteen yards. Civilians screamed, cowering anywhere they could.

PuckDaddy asked, “Were those gunshots?”

“Yes!” I shouted. “And they’re aiming at me! And I hate it!”

“The war has begun.”

“Stop being dramatic! Now what do I do?”

“What do you mean?” PuckDaddy asked. “You’re the Outlaw. Kick ass.”

“Chase! Stop screwing around and put those guys down,” the Shooter yelled.

“This is my first time,” I grumbled.

Clunk! Something bounced off the car and hit me in the helmet. A grenade! Where’d they get a
grenade
?! No time to think. I grabbed the explosive and hurled it straight up. I can throw hard. The grenade was a hundred yards in the air when it ignited. The four gunmen were staring up at the fire in the sky when I descended on them. Nothing fancy. I hit them each as hard and as quickly as I could. That worked. “Okay. They’re down.”

“Identify the explosion I heard,” Samantha said.

“Grenade. I think these guys are dressed like me. Or at least they tried.”

PuckDaddy mused, “Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”

“They look stupid,” I said. “I hope I don’t look stupid.”

I took several deep breaths. I needed a weapon. The situation was escalating quickly. Far off to the east, two helicopters were roving southwards, their searchlights stabbing into Compton’s fringes. The whole world was converging on this section of greater Los Angeles.

I left my bike. I could move faster on foot and I didn’t want to ride into an ambush. I really needed a weapon! Something to throw. I found a box of heavy bullets in an unconscious gunman’s pocket. I took the bullets and tossed their weapons off the interstate. Then I pulled off their masks.

I said, “These guys look like they’ve been snorting something.”

Shooter answered, “Chemist’s new compound. Probably causes delusions, immunity to pain, aggressiveness, and other fun stuff. Don’t get close to them. Put them down.”

“Put them down? But they’re people. People unfortunate enough to be addicted to a drug.”

“Chase!” she shouted. “You’re entering enemy territory. Thousands of people, probably tens of thousands of people, have sided with the Chemist. They’ve put on masks, picked up guns, voluntarily snorted a drug, and now they’re hurting innocent people. You want to get Katie out? Worry about morality later. Ten thousand guys with guns stand between you and her. It’s you or them. It’s her or them. We need to get the Chemist out of there, and that means going through whoever gets in our way. Understand?”

“Yeah,” I said. “It’s them or Katie. I get it.”

I proceeded south steadily but cautiously, peering into cars for possible projectiles while on lookout for Chemist gunmen. Could there really be ten thousand guys waiting for us? That didn’t seem possible. Shooter announced that she reached I-105, the northern boundary of Compton. She met enemy resistance in the graveyard of vacated vehicles, all with punctured fuel tanks. Sporadic gunmen were waiting in the cars, but she quickly dispatched them. Still no sign of Carter, although we knew he was nearby.