The Infected 1: Proxy Read Online Free PDF Page A

nonsense question, who'd do that?
    He laughed at her other questions too, weakly, a breathy sound, since she seemed to be making jokes. Would he trade her life, the doctor's life, to punish the police? To catch the men in the bar? To save the woman? Would he trade his life to save that woman? To save her, the doctor again he got after a few seconds slow and fuzzy thinking, if she were in trouble?
    Of course, he told her, that only made sense. It made him worry about her a little, that she'd even ask such things. Her life was obviously worth more than his was.
    Finally she asked him if he felt afraid of the police. He told her he really did, it wasn't something he wanted to admit, but it was the simple truth. Just thinking about them made him afraid. A deep trembling thing. Terror really. Brian knew it didn't sound very brave, but that really was how he felt. They were monsters. When you encountered that kind of thing, it was best to run away or at least hide, right?
    "One last question then. Let's say the police are here in the hall, and they're going to take one of us to the station and beat them exactly like you were before. They'll take me in your place. If you want me to go, I will. Is that what you want? I don't think you can survive another beating like that right now..." She sounded oddly soft and a little unsure suddenly.
    "No! Don't take her, take me instead..." He tried to climb out of the bed, but his hands and legs wouldn't really work. Brian had to protect the woman if they were coming for her, didn't he? Those evil men would hurt her for sure. Maybe worse than they had him even. A fat guy was a lot less tempting to rape after all.
    His head spun as he searched for something to fight with. He picked up the plastic food tray and held it, barely able to keep it from slipping out of his clumsy half dead hands. Ready to do what little he could, knowing it wouldn't be enough. They had guns and clubs and torture devices. He had a tiny piece of orange plastic. It was too hard to move. He'd gotten halfway to the floor, sliding on the edge of the bed with the woman trying to stop him for some reason, when Agent Lancaster came in.
    The large man listened to what the woman said carefully, head tilted, something about the police Brian heard, and then walked over to the younger man.
    "Brian, listen to me, there are other agents here now and we took care of the police, they won't come back, Doctor Tull is safe... If they try to hurt her we'll shoot them." He had to repeat this about a dozen times, but it finally all sank in.
    After they got him back into bed and got someone to fix the I.V. that he'd pulled out of his arm, he fell asleep again. Brian didn't really feel clear for days. Almost ten. He first came back to himself fully as a male nurse, Ken, walked him around the halls to make sure he got what exercise he could.
    They didn't walk long, about ten minutes, his body still aching in places, but not nearly as bad as it had. His legs were stiff and his right hand only closed about halfway, but he thought that if he could close it that far, he should be able to eventually get it back. His left hand was better, but not perfect. Ken walked Brian back to his room and helped him into bed, then asked if he needed anything.
    Brian thought about that, "Um, could I get a razor? I need to shave this growth off. Not really something I can do, grow a real beard. This fuzz on my face looks ridiculous."
    Ken chuckled and told Brian that he'd see what they could come up with. The man did better than that, even helping him shave, since Brian couldn't hold a razor yet. It felt awkward, but nice to have the itching mess gone. A doctor, one he didn't recognize really, but who felt familiar if that made any sense, came in and asked some questions about how things were going. Brian asked some of his own when the other man had finished.
    "So, I'm not trying to be a whiner here or anything, honest, but are my hands permanently crippled? I mean,