Infected: Die Like Supernovas (The Outlaw Book 2) (9 page)

The speaker’s helmet crackled to life and a male voice said, “Greetings idiot.”

“What do you want?”

“Oh nothing. Just to tell the mighty Outlaw that he’s about to be arrested.”

“Explain,” I demanded and I turned in a circle, scanning the area.

Natalie North noticed the change in my demeanor and whispered, “What’s going on?”

The voice said, “The FBI has been monitoring your girlfriend’s building, genius. They have arrived and are on the way up.”

“Oh jeez,” I groaned.

“What?” Natalie asked again.

I told her, “We’re about to have company.”

“Don’t take off yet, dummy,” the voice in my head said. “I want to hear what the Feds have to say.”

“They’re here to arrest me,” I shouted into the helmet. “I have to leave now.”

“Who is here?” Natalie asked. She was glancing around in alarm.

“Listen idiot,” he said in my ear. “You need to trust me. They are too well organized right now. They’d track you straight to your house. I’m working on it. Talk to them and don’t run until I give the signal.”

“Who
are
you?”

“I’m Infected, baby. Just like you. Except I’m awesome,” he said and I could hear a smile in his voice. Infected! Another one! He was helping me? “And I’m about to save your life. You big dumb idiot. Now go up to your girlfriend’s roof. We need to draw all the feds up there.”

I hesitated.

“
Trust
me,” he said.

“Come on.” I grabbed Natalie’s hand and ran up the circular fire escape. I drug her the entire three flights. No sooner had we arrived than hidden flood lights snapped on and lit up the night. Pow! The sudden brilliance was obviously meant to be disorienting, and the spectacle was effective. The penthouse door crashed open and men in black poured out. They held flashlights with one hand and were resting their other hand on the pistol in their holster. Shouts, orders, noise! Natalie and I were quickly surrounded.

“This had better work,” I whispered.

“I agree,” the voice in the helmet said. “Otherwise the Shooter has to smoke you right here, right now.”

“Are you watching this?”

“Of course, stupid. It’s totally sweet.”

Natalie was pissed. She was red in the face and yelling at the agents, who appeared stern but maybe a little unnerved by the force of her fury. She
was
Natalie North, after all.

“You know what?” she snapped and whipped out her phone. “I’m recording this. We’ll see how the media judges this intrusion.”

“No cameras,” one of the agents ordered and three of them descended upon her, grabbing at her phone.

My blood was pumping. My headache was increasing, but I didn’t care. I was going to tomahawk throw each of these agents off the roof. They couldn’t touch me! I
owned
the night! I could feel the vest growing tighter.

“Hey, whoa, everyone calm down!” a new voice said, and a man who looked like Captain America without the mask rushed onto the roof. He started hauling the agents away, which might have saved their lives. And mine. “Give her back the phone,” he commanded. Natalie’s phone was returned and she leveled her icy glare at him. “I assure you, Ms. North, there is no need to record this. For starters,” he said and then lifted his hands up to the surrounding skyscrapers. “I imagine this is already being recorded by hundreds of cameras. Your friend here has made sure of that. And second, this is completely legal. There is a warrant out for his arrest.”

“You’re here to arrest him?” Natalie lashed out.

“I’m Special Agent in Charge, Isaac Anderson, ma’am. Los Angeles Federal Bureau of Investigation,” he said and he handed over his credentials for her to scrutinize. “And all I want to do is talk.”

“Give me your number,” I growled. “And I’ll call you from a pay phone. We can talk all night.”

“I’d prefer to talk in person,” he said, and then to his credit he backed away. His hands were up, as if in surrender. “No pressure, no arrests. Just exchanging information.”

“Let Natalie go,” I said. “I don’t like her being here with all these goons.”

“That’s an excellent idea,” he agreed.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she told him, and at that moment we were more afraid of her than the pistols.

“Okay, that’s fine. We can do it that way,” he said calmly. Despite myself, I liked this guy. He was a cool customer. “In fact, if you will promise to give me a few minutes of your time, I’ll send these guys back downstairs.”

“Good,” Natalie said. “Get rid of them.”

“Lame,” the voice in my head whispered. “He’s playing a game. He’s got all the exits covered. He thinks you can’t get away, so it’s really a lame gesture he’s making. Keep him talking.”

“I’ll stay,” I told Isaac Anderson. “I’ve got nowhere to be. I was taking the night off from fighting crime, anyway.”

Special Agent in Charge Isaac Anderson cracked a smile and said, “Okay, gentlemen. You heard the man. Wait downstairs.”

The agents in their tactical pants and flashlights and pistols and shiny black jackets all began egressing down the staircase. So far this was going exactly as Anderson had planned it.

“Full disclosure, guys,” Anderson told us when we were alone. He indicated the brilliant spotlights. “We’re still being recorded. Everything you say and do is being caught on camera. Okay?”

“What do you want?” Natalie asked. “He hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“I’m afraid I disagree with you, Ms. North,” he said politely. “He’s unlawfully broken and entered, resisted arrest twice, disturbed the peace, assaulted…a lot of people, and impeded an investigation. Plus, the whole…self-appointed law enforcement…masked enterprise thing is illegal. I’m probably forgetting some other laws he’s broken.”

“He did those things for noble reasons,” she shot back. She was still standing between me and Isaac Anderson with her arms crossed. “He’s a good person.”

“That’s exactly what I’m here to find out,” he said.

“I count ten guys total,” a whisper in my ear told me. “Did you park in the alley near the Italian joint? There’s a Fed near there, too.”

“What should I call you?” Anderson asked me. “I feel a little silly calling you Outlaw.”

“Stupid question, Anderson,” I replied, growling. I did not want my voice analyzed.

“Should we all sit down?” he asked.

“No,” I said.

“No,” Natalie said.

“I’ve been tracking you for a while now,” he chuckled. “I couldn’t decide if I was happy or sad that you disappeared for those two months.” He waited for a response but neither of us said anything. He cleared his throat and continued, “Do you realize what an untenable position I’m in? The world wants you to be a real superhero and I’m supposed to arrest you.”

“I wouldn’t try, if I were you,” I said.

“Right. I don’t want to use force. Nobody wants that. It’d be best for everyone if you and I cooperated.”

I shook my head and said, “I’m not feeling very cooperative, Anderson.”

“That’s a good line,” the voice in my head snickered.

“You and the federal government
are
going to have a conversation. I’m here tonight on its behalf. Consider me a temporary peace offering. The L.A.P.D. needs to ask you some questions, and so do several federal agencies. The best way for that to happen would be us riding together to my office,” he said.

“Not going to happen,” I replied. “Ask your questions here.”

“We need to know your identity. We need to discuss your involvement in the Katie Lopez kidnapping. We need to discuss the charges against you, including your illegal vigilante escapades. The cyber division wants to know about the recent internet hack. And we need to talk about you…physically,” he finished uneasily.

“What does that mean?” Natalie asked.

“Ms. North, we have video of the Outlaw doing strange things. On the recordings, it looks humanly impossible. Is it a hoax? Does he have weaponized special equipment? Or is it something else? We need to know what’s going on.”

The voice in my ear crackled, “You ready to jump off the roof?”

“What??” I whispered.

“We’re almost set up. Is your motorcycle in that alley?” the ear piece asked.

“Yes,” I hissed.

“Perfect. Stand by.”

“So?” Anderson was asking. “Can we go peacefully to my office and have this conversation? You have my word, which is being recorded, that I will not arrest you if you comply.”

I shook my head and said, “Negative.”

“The other option, I’m afraid, is less pleasant,” he said, and his handsome trustworthy face turned hard. “We will arrest you. This building is surrounded. There are no exists. You will be taken by force to a holding cell in the U.S. Marshal’s office.”

“Just about ready,” the whisper said.

“There’s a third option,” I told Anderson slowly.

“I’m all ears,” Anderson said. “Anything to avoid violence.”

“I’m going to leave,” I said, my heart about to pound out of my chest. “You give your number to Natalie. I’ll call you sometime and answer whatever I can.”

“I cannot allow you to leave,” Anderson said.

“Wrong, Anderson. You cannot stop me.”

“Oh, this is going to be good,” the voice giggled in my ear. “Jump down to the lower roof in the direction from which you came. Ready when you are, Outlaw.”

“Let’s do it. I’ll see you around, FBI,” I said.

“Wait…” he warned.

A lot of things happened at once. Even though my headset had warned me, the chaos was staggering. The banks of bright lights began to shatter one at a time, like fireworks exploding, crashing sideways. Natalie screamed as the world erupted. Special Agent in Charge Isaac Anderson’s phone started ringing. Car horns everywhere began to bawl; judging by the cacophony, alarms were going off by the hundreds. And then the electricity to our city block was cut. We plunged into darkness as every light around us extinguished. Frenzied honking below. The spectacular sequence was high-definition movie-quality impressive.

“Jump, idiot,” the voice said in my ear. “Get to your bike.”

I ran to the edge of the roof, mustered up my resolve, and jumped. I
really
jumped. I launched myself far, far up into the sky. Way too high! I yelped in shock as the buildings fell away. I whirled my arms in the atmosphere, helpless, arcing at an inhuman height.

“Hey,” my helmet said. “Where’d you go?”

For a second, the cosmos was quiet. Dark buildings crowded below, silhouetted by the silent blazing city. How high was I? Seven stories? Eight? Nine? I began the descent. The night whistled against my face shield as I plummeted. The rooftops rose up in a fierce rush.

“Ohshootshootshoot!” I ground my teeth and crashed into the roof. Feet first. Miraculously upright. Still alive. I was…okay! Unbroken and alert on the second-story commercial structure next to Natalie’s apartment building. The roof tiles had buckled but held. “…wow.
That
was awesome.”

“At your bike yet?”

“No,” I said and I accelerated across the roofs. I could move like lightning when I wanted. A familiar euphoric sensation was overtaking me. Being Infected was the best! “Getting close.”

“Carter’s going to kill me. Not sure you’re worth this,” he said.

I jumped again, fell two stories, and landed in the dark alley beside my bike. A lady nearby shrieked.

“Power’s coming on,” he warned and towers of light began humming back to life. The world resurfaced.

“Okay,” I panted. “I’m on the bike.”

“Move. Head south.”

“Which way is south?”

“Oh god you’re dumb. Turn right.”

I hit the throttle and tore off into the street. The bike responded by popping a wheelie and nearly ripping out of my hands. I clung on and navigated frantically through the traffic. Cars with honking alarms lined the streets.

“Here they come. Turn left at the light.”

Two black Chevy Tahoes roared around the corner, nearly colliding with me, lights blazing and sirens screaming.

“I’m being chased!”

“Of course you are! This is wicked awesome! Turn right and head for the Second Street Tunnel.”

“The tunnel? You sure??”

“Trust me. Those are the only two cars they had ready. It’ll be another minute before the rest of their squad is rolling. You’ll be long gone by then. Head straight down Second Street.”

I gunned it, weaving and slicing through the thicket.

“We might get cut off,” he said. “So in the tunnel, slow down and let them get right behind you. Then power slide into a U-turn and come back out. They won’t be able to follow. Tunnel is too small. I hope. There it is!”

I plunged into the shiny underpass, doggedly pursued by the two wailing Feds. The enclosed space exploded with the FBI’s unbearable lights, and the squawking hurt my ears through the helmet.

Stalled traffic ahead. I charged at it and then got off the gas. In the side mirror I watched the FBI narrow my lead. Closer. Closer. Almost touching my rear wheel.

I yanked on the brake, gunned the engine and spun away. My rear tire laid down a thick coat of rubber while the bike twirled into the opposite lane, aiming back down the tunnel, facing the FBI’s trucks. It happened too fast and they crashed, trying to follow. They collided and plowed into the wall together. I was already gone before they could reverse.

I took a deep breath and held it. By the time I released the air I was four blocks away and home free.

“Nice work!”

“Woohoo!” I cried.

“I can’t keep up with you on the monitors,” the helmet said. “Do you feel invincible? Indestructible? Are you driving like a maniac?”

“Absolutely,” I howled. “Wooooooo! That was awesome!” I felt high, almost light-headed with delirium.

“That’s the virus talking, and it’s going to kill you, stupid. Slow down. Go the speed limit.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re not Batman, dumbass!” the speaker rattled. “What the hell is wrong with you? You’re a kid. You don’t want anyone to know where you live. You left the FBI behind, so slow down, don’t draw more attention to yourself, and get out of there. Stay south on Alameda, get on Interstate 10 and go home.”