by Blou Bryant
“Rocky got us old-school phones, they aren’t on the network, they’re local use only. Like walkie-talkies.”
Smart, thought Wyatt. And why didn’t they tell me this or give me one? He knew the answer, he didn’t need one, he wasn’t allowed out.
“Team three, come in,” rang in his ear twice more. “Team three, I see you moving west on Argyle. I’m sending units.”
Oh, crap, thought Wyatt. Of course the phones had geo-locators. And he was now team three, at least on their tracker. “Timo, I grabbed a phone, they know where we are,” he said, pulled the battery out, and threw it to the side of the road. “We need to change directions.”
Timo tapped his ear. “We’re heading north now. Girls, find us a way out.”
The two of them turned right on the next street and Wyatt saw a car heading towards them, still two blocks back. He wondered if it was just someone out late. The sound of its engine revving higher as it sped up was his answer.
Ahead of them, three men came around a corner. Wyatt would have turned through a backyard, but Timo wasn’t able to climb or jump like him. If these guys had infrared goggles or implants, Timo would not be able to hide, and he’d likely be shot. He was just someone in the way. “You need to get away. I will break left, and they’ll follow me. You go through that backyard and find a place to hide.”
Timo ignored him and kept running. “Keep…” he took a labored breath, “going.”
“There’s a car behind us. We’re trapped, you need to escape.”
Timo slowed and stopped, and said, with a tap on his ear-bud, “Rock, everyone, we’re trapped. There’s a car behind us and three men ahead of us.” He took a deep breath, “Now or never, everybody.”
As they closed, the men pulled their weapons. Wyatt almost ran forward, but stopped. He grinned as a woman stepped out of the shadows behind the men. In her black cross-hatched tights, thigh length gray sweater and chains, she looked like she was ready for a night out. Wyatt recognized Ira by her long dreadlocks and clothing, even in the faint light given off by the street lights.
“Hey, boys, is there a party?” she asked.
Wyatt and Timo weren’t close enough to pose a threat, so two of the men turned to look at her. Neither raised their weapons, which was a mistake. She closed in on them quickly and with one round kick of a tall gray boot, she knocked the guns out of both of their hands. “Oops, you dropped those,” she said and kneed the one on the left in the groin.
Wyatt wanted to laugh. He’d never seen Ira in real action before. He knew he’d get in crap for sneaking out and he’d probably spend days feeling bad for putting them in danger, but right now, he was enjoying something other than the lonely tedium that his life had become.
“Hey, Sis,” said a voice from above. “Don’t start…”
“… without you? Never.”
A small metal disk whirled out of the tree and knocked the gun out of the third man’s hand. Ari dropped down and punched him twice in the face before she hit the ground.
Ira was busy trading blows with the one she hadn’t kneed in the groin, and was holding her own. The second man had just got up when Wyatt rushed forward and tackled him from behind. As they grappled, he heard the sound of a car screech up behind them. He struggled to get the upper hand but found himself evenly matched. The guy was as strong as Rocky, stronger even, and was taking a beating without slowing down in the slightest.
A shot rang out, then another. He looked up, there were four men with guns running towards them from the car. Timo materialized behind one of them and put his arm around his neck, holding on for dear life. He was small, and the man whipped him left and right, trying to shake him off.
A punch to the face forced Wyatt to focus on his current opponent. He punched back and tried to get a pressure hold on the guy’s arm but failed.
The sound of a second car heralded more enemies arriving. Wyatt redoubled his efforts but the other man prevailed and ended up on top. Wyatt lashed out with a knee but didn’t get enough in it to do any damage. He felt hot breath wash over him, the man smelled sick, putrid. The man appeared crazed, his eyes wide, the whites flecked red.
As his vision faded, he made out Ari standing over them, a broad smile livened by the tiny colorful flowers and stars tattooed on her cheeks. She was a small woman, like her sister, neither of them broke one hundred and ten pounds or five foot two, but they were deadly. She was dressed to kill as well in a sleeveless white top and a striped mini-tie. One kick downwards with a black pump and the man collapsed.
Wyatt got up on one knee. “Thanks,” he said. A quick glance established that the fight was over. The second car hadn’t been filled with attackers, it had held Rocky and Hannah. Rocky had an unconscious man by the throat who he threw to the ground when he saw the fight was over.
Hannah stood over a second attacker who was writhing and moaning in pain. The guy must have made the mistake of letting her touch him. Over the past years, she’d demonstrated more than just healing power, she could affect others, for good and bad.
Just like that, it was over. All their attackers were out cold.
Ira and Ari slapped hands in the air and then swung their arms around and clapped down low. “That’s how Dogs do it,” they said in unison. The two had been conjoined twins, healed by Wyatt almost three years earlier. Now they were devoted to the life. They were the truest Altereds of all the Red Dogs, with genetic alterations he’d given when he’d healed them, and with mechanical alterations that they’d had implanted since. They were covered in piercings, tattoos and with attitude to spare and Wyatt was never quite sure what to make of them.
“Enough, let’s go,” said Rocky. “That may not be the last of them.”
Wyatt climbed to his feet, his head still spinning from the choking he’d received. “Wait. First, search them, take everything.”
“We don’t have time.”
“We don’t have a choice. Everyone, grab whatever you can from the ones closest to you. Phones, wallets,” Wyatt said, walked over, pushed past Rocky and searched the pursuers car. In the glove box, he found the small fold that contained the insurance and ownership papers. He grabbed a tablet computer and climbed back out. Everybody had followed his directions, and were waiting on him now, phones and wallets in hand. “OK, now we go,” he said and got in the front seat.
Rocky took the wheel as the other four climbed into the back. Wyatt heard Timo groan as Ira jumped on his lap. “Gotta make space,” she said and snuggled tight up against him. All the girls loved making him uncomfortable. The more he complained, the more they played up the flirting. Wyatt glanced back, and she went quiet. They didn’t flirt with him, he was the special one, the loner who healed people, the one who had healed them.
The car was in manual mode, they never used automatic because of the internet connections that were required. As they pulled out, the car behind them started up and followed, driverless. It—clearly—was still hooked up.
Rocky stopped the car, got out and put six bullets in the engine of the other vehicle before returning and driving off. “Freaking computers.”
Wyatt said, “Everyone, take the batteries out of the phones you collected, now. Ari, give me one of your throwing thingamabobs.”
“Thingamabobs?” she asked, but she understood what he meant and passed him a small round metal disk. Its edge was razor sharp, and he used it to pry open the tablet he’d taken from the car. He tossed the battery out the window.
“Why grab this stuff?” asked Rocky.
“Guys, I made a mistake going out tonight on my own, I know that, but I also know that I’m sick of hiding and won’t do it anymore. It’s time to go on the offensive. We’re going to use these to find our enemy and attack her.”
Chapter 3
They drove out of the city, getting as far away from the police cameras and automatic plate recognition software as they could. It wouldn’t be long before the car—which Rocky had hot-wired—was reported and caught by one
of the thousands of cameras and monitors that blanketed the city.
They headed out of town, going to the farm, which was a prosaic way of describing a run-down old shack on an overgrown patch of land. Once they passed the city limits, everyone relaxed and conversation started up. Rocky turned to Wyatt and scolded him. “Leaving like that, you put everyone at risk.”
“So what, we’re always at risk,” Wyatt replied, his blood still up. “Come on, we kicked ass, we can kick more.”
With a sideways glance, Rocky said, “No, we got lucky. A single stray bullet and one of us might be dead.”
“Better dead than living in basements, hiding,” Wyatt said, but he winced at the thought. He was arguing for the sake of it, and he knew it. “We should take the fight to them.”
“Nothing’s being decided in this car, not until we talk to Sandra,” Rocky said, and that ended the conversation. The Dogs weren’t a democracy and she was the one and only leader. That’s fine, thought Wyatt, I’m not a member, not really. He slumped down in the seat, lost in his thoughts and worries.
The group drove for another hour, Rocky and Wyatt silent, the rest chatting away as if they were returning from a party. Ira poked Timo a couple times, and tried to tickle him to get him to talk, but he ignored her. “I bet he’s got…”
“You’re such a…,” said Ari.
“… don’t say it,” finished Ira.
“Leave him alone,” said Ari, with an irritated edge to her voice. She was usually almost as flirty as her sister, but Wyatt had noticed she wasn’t a fan of Timo.
“But I wanna…,” Ira said.
“… no you don’t.”
Wyatt tried to ignore the banter. The sisters shared their senses and each could experience what the other was feeling, something gained while conjoined and enhanced when he infected them. Their connection made them frighteningly powerful as fighters when working together. It also made them annoyingly weird to be around.
“Come on, help out, pull his shirt up,” Ira said.
Timo whined, “Stop it.”
Hannah laughed, loud and cheerful, “The more you resist, the more fun she has, you know that, right?”
“Grow up, the bunch of you,” Wyatt said, “We’ve got work to do.” The excitement had faded and now he was uncomfortable, worried, and in no mood for banter.
“Borrrrrring,” said Ira.
Rocky looked up at the rear-view mirror, “Wyatt’s right, we need to focus.”
“Rock, you’re the whitest white man ever,” said Ira, but she turned from assaulting Timo to fiddle with the tablet sized phone she’d taken from one of the men. There was a cracking sound as she broke it open.
“Why are the hunky ones so dull?” asked Ari. Where she was cold with Timo, she adored Rocky, who she treated like an uncle. He’d helped care for the two of them ever since they’d been rescued by the Dogs.
“It’s ‘cause they’re hunky,” replied Ira, fiddling with the phone.
“They don’t have to work…”
“… as hard.” Using one of her nails, Ira snapped little pieces off of the inside.
“Too true. We need good-looking guys…”
“… with the personality of an ugly.”
“Quiet, everybody,” said Rocky as they approached the farm. He swore and didn’t take the turn down the long gravel road. “We’ve been compromised,” he said.
“How do you know?” asked Wyatt, noticing Rocky’s knuckles redden as he tightened his grip on the wheel.
“Did you see the little cross and pile of flowers and dolls before the turn?”
Wyatt nodded, he’d briefly noticed one of those memorials to someone killed in an accident.
“We put it there as a marker, a warning. If the red doll is on the left, everything is fine. The doll was on the right side, that means there’s trouble.”
“What do we do now?” asked Wyatt.
“There’s a back-up, we’ll head there. Enough fooling around. Eyes open, be ready, okay?”
The group went silent. Wyatt watched the road as they continued south. At the sound of a snap, he looked back. Ira was working on the inside of the phone. At an unspoken request, Ari passed her a safety pin. “What are you doing?” he asked finally.
As Rocky turned down a gravel road, she replied, “Fixing it so we can see what’s on it.”
“They’ll know where we are the second it pings on the system.”
“Not anymore,” she said, and put out her hand, showing him a bunch of broken little plastic and metal pieces. “It’s now a small stand-alone computer, no internet, network, Bluetooth or other connections available at all. Give me the battery,” she said to Hannah.
The battery replaced in the phone, she handed it back to Timo. “Take a look through that and I’ll fix the others.”
Wyatt was surprised. It’d been a sudden decision to take them, to see what information they could glean. It’d been one of the first decisions he’d taken in years, and she was following along, without question. Even Rocky, ever cautious when it came to Wyatt and the risks he faced, had nothing to say. Was it possible that it’d been his own fault that he—and they—had spent three years hiding?
“How far have we gone?” asked Rocky. “I forgot to check when we turned.” He knew that Wyatt would have looked at the odometer and would have stored the information away.
Wyatt was obsessed with distance, with time, and counted out everything he did, from the moment he woke up every morning. One, put on slippers. Two, start the shower. Three, urinate. Four, shower. He washed his hair first, his feet last. In order, always in order. Every minute of the day, he planned and counted out his actions.
It had bothered him when he first learned that his habits weren’t normal and made him different from others. Now that he was on the run, it seemed much less important, and he allowed himself the freedom to be weird. He glanced again at the odometer. “We’ve gone three point two miles,” he said. “Three point three now.”
“Crap,” said Rocky, stopped the car and reversed. He ignored the rear-view camera and leaned his big frame over so he could see through the back window. “Duck,” he said to Hannah.
Point two miles back, Rocky pulled off into the woods, weaving backward between trees until the car wouldn’t be visible from the road in daylight. “Everybody out, we walk from here,” he said, took a flashlight from his pocket, and flicked it on. It was a little thing, but bright enough to light the way.
“Is it safe to have that on?” asked Wyatt. “Are there other houses out here, or hunting camps?”
“I don’t know,” said Rocky.
“Turn it off, we don’t need it. Everyone hold hands, Timo can take the lead, he can see perfectly in the dark.” Again, to Wyatt’s surprise, people followed his direction. Rocky turned off the light and took second place, the rest in a line behind him.
The group slowly made their way through the woods. At first, Wyatt winced at the sound of every snapped twig but after a few minutes, he accepted that they were not likely to be caught by anything other than a raccoon or owl. The rustling mingled with the sound of the wind shaking the remaining few leaves from the trees and became part of the experience, nothing more. Rocky whispered directions as best he could and they kept a downhill path.
It didn’t take long for Wyatt’s eyes to get used to the dark, given the bright canopy of stars that filled the sky. With the rest of them ahead of him, he was sure to not walk into a stump or fallen tree and instead focused his gaze above him. He counted stars as they disappeared behind branches and reappeared again. One star to match each step taken, and he managed to reach four-hundred despite starting over twice when he’d been unsure if he’d counted the same one twice.
“Now we go north, to your right,” said Rocky to Timo. “Follow the stream. There’ll be an old wooden home on the other side. When you see it, we stop and wait.”
The walk along the bank grew more treacherous as the group inched their way from rock to rock, av
oiding the water as much as possible. Splashes were accompanied by muttered curses as each took a turn getting their shoes wet.
Wyatt stopped his count, focused on his footing and what he’d say and do when they gathered at the hidden home. Excitement gone, he worried about the Dogs and what they’d do next. The people after them—after him—had money, power, and, the freedom to go where they pleased. They had allies, rich like them, and he had only the Red Dogs. Even the other Altered groups couldn’t be trusted to not take Wyatt and lock him away as their own personal DNA altering machine.
The group moved slowly as Timo weaved between water and the dense brush that grew along the side of the stream. It was wet and muddy along the edge, and after losing five minutes to an almost failed attempt to retrieve his boot from deep in the mud, he gave up and led them back deeper into the forest, where the ground was solid.
While they walked, Wyatt had an internal conversation. He’d put something in motion tonight, it’d been dumb, but he couldn’t focus on that. This was an opportunity to change the path he’d been on for three years, to break out of his rut. He would take it. People were listening to him, now he needed to keep their attention.
The group followed Timo for another twenty agonizingly slow minutes before he said, “There is a building ahead, with people inside, and a couple outside standing guard.” While Wyatt couldn’t see anything as there was no visible light, Timo could see the heat of bodies, even through hard wooden walls. The group waited as Timo and Rocky approached the building to see if the people inside were friendlies.
The crunching of branches heralded Hannah’s arrival next to him. Kneeling down, she broke the silence with an intense whisper. “What the hell were you thinking?”
Great, he thought, let the bitching start. “I wanted to go out.”
“So, go out. But tell someone. Ask me. Or Rocky, if you don’t want to be with me.”
