Free The Infected 3: Cast Iron by P. S. Power

register herself. She wasn’t sweating much yet, but that would probably come if it was that warm and she had to keep rushing at innocent people. Most of the others were already glistening, so that meant it was hot out. Well, Florida in the spring. Early spring, but still, it was going to be warm this far south, wasn’t it? The driver stopped and turned back to her.
    “I’m Sammy. I’ll be your driver for the whole stay, I’m a local, but the Network hired me to make sure you all get anywhere you need to go. You need anything to make your stay more comfortable, please don’t hesitate to call me, day or night. I can get you almost anything. I have connections. Of course, you folks being in law enforcement, those are all on the up and up… But still, I’m here if you need anything, understand?” He clicked another picture of Marcia and then, finally, put the camera back under his shirt, a bright blue and green polo above light cream shorts with big pockets.
    “Hi Sammy, I’m Marcia Turner. Pleased to meet you.” She held out her hand, wondering if the man would really shake it, after seeing her rush at him faster than a person could and then hover in the air like he had. He might not know that the last part had been Kerry even.
    A lot of people couldn’t make themselves touch an Infected person at all. It wasn’t catching, but some people didn’t believe that. No matter what the medical studies said some people still worked on the assumption that it must be passed from person to person somehow. It wasn’t an infection at all, but the name had come in early and stuck, so a lot of people couldn’t tell the difference. It seemed that Sammy wasn’t one of those people for what it was worth, which was a great skill to have if he was going to work with the public, at least in Marcia’s mind. The man grabbed her hand like it was a present, not letting go for far too long for comfort and pumped away at it like he thought water would eventually start to shoot from her mouth if he worked hard enough.
    Then, as he started to let go he slipped something into her palm. The move was covert and hidden from view carefully. She didn’t look at it, just trapping the paper under her thumb, then moving to where the baggage was being offloaded from the underside of the plane, as Sammy started shaking everyone else’s hand. It might just be his card, or even phone number, if the guy was looking to get lucky with the tourist ladies. It wasn’t though. She could tell from the thickness of the paper. Men didn’t give you their numbers on full sized pieces of paper and business cards were on heavy stock, not folded sheets.
    Grabbing her bag she turned to find her way blocked by Lancaster, who was already holding his own luggage as well. The bags were similar, medium sized duffels in black, both held in the right hand. They also both had papers tucking into their palms. Glancing around she saw that Reyes had one too. Not Burke though. No one else did either. So that was a sign, wasn’t it? It meant a whole bunch of things, all at once. Most likely at least. The tall light haired agent gave her a half nod. No more than would be polite, since they were old friends. They had friends in common too, which made sense. It also meant that she wasn’t the only one being called in on this mission, if it was one at all and not just a trap.
    That meant that Sammy wasn’t just a driver though, or a guy given a few bucks to pass a simple message. He at least had to have photos of all of them, or he might have messed up. Hers was easy enough to get, since she was in that realm of quasi famous people that being on Team one forced on a person, even if they weren’t really popular like Prime or Lady Glory. Another year or two of the kind of media exposure she was getting would probably make her noticeable on the street to some people even. Unfortunately that wasn’t normally a good thing. Most of the people that could immediately name all the