Betrayal: A Red Dog Thriller (The Altered Book 2)

by Blou Bryant

  “How can they tell someone looks dangerous?”

  Ari raised an eyebrow as if to ask, are you stupid?

  He figured out what she meant, and thought, yes, sometimes I am. Instead, he said, “So, I’m Stephen now?”

  “You figure it’s the guy you were talking to; he’s changed you already?” said Hannah.

  “Maybe,” he said. The phone rang again, he answered with a terse, “Yes?”

  “Wyatt?” was the questioning reply.

  He melted with relief. It was Sandra. “You’re alive. I was so worried, we all were. Where are you guys, are you safe, have you found anyone?”

  “Let’s keep details to a minimum, I’m checking in to make sure you’re okay.”

  “I am, we are.” He put her on speaker. “It’s our friend.” Once everyone was listening in, he said, “We’re still working on what you asked us to do. We’ve tracked down three of four leads and have not found our friends yet but I think we’re close.”

  “Good. You’re on your own. There aren’t many of us and we’re being chased across the state. I don’t know how, but they seem to always be a step ahead of us. We’ve got lucky twice, but I can’t count on luck for much longer.”

  “How many left?”

  “There are only six of us. I’m not going to try to contact anyone else until we figure things out.”

  “Are you going to ground?” Wyatt asked.

  “Nope, gotta keep running until…” she trailed off. When she said, “What we talked about…” Wyatt figured she still worried about a traitor.

  It might be, but it might as well be trackers planted on them. “Do me a favor?” he asked. “Go to a Wal-Mart or something, get a new set of clothes for everyone. Dump everything you have. Keep your own personal stuff that’s never left your sight, money and that, but everything else goes in the garbage.”

  “Will do,” she said, understanding his intent. “Be safe, guys.”

  “You too,” Hannah said. “We miss you. How’s the big guy?” she said, meaning Rocky, figured Wyatt.

  “Angry and mean.”

  Wyatt laughed. “Good, he needs to be. You guys stay safe too. Call me tomorrow night if you can. We may know more.”

  Not able to say anything further, he hung up. “You heard her, they’re counting on us,” he said to his friends. “We need to find the others.”

  Chapter 11

  They spent the remainder of their afternoon quietly enjoying dinner away from the masses of people eating at the HUC. Alone on the porch of an abandoned house, under a largely faded sign that warned against trespassing, Wyatt shared his plan to go to the police station the next day, but he struggled with what the girls should do.

  “So, how about we break in?” asked Ari.

  “To the station?” asked Wyatt

  Ira gave him a playful slap, “No…”

  “… the compound,” said Ari.

  “If the Dogs are there…”

  Ari continued, “… I bet they move them soon. How about we break in…”

  “… tonight?” finished Ira.

  Wyatt disagreed, chewing on a limp stalk of celery. “They’ll be on high alert.”

  Hannah said, “But we can’t do it during the day, it’s way too open for us to just walk up to it.”

  “Tomorrow night, then. I’ll watch the police station, you three can pick up the things we need.” Confident in his spy experience from reading novels and watching movies, he rhymed off a list of things to get. Bolt cutters, and crowbar from a hardware store, and night vision goggles from a gun shop.

  “What about your friend? He’s gotta have spy gadgets we could use.”

  “Patterson?”

  “If you’re meeting him tomorrow morning, we’re coming.”

  Wyatt dialed Patterson.

  “Speak of the devil.”

  Normally the thought of people talking about him gave him fits, but somehow he wasn’t surprised the two old guys were, and it didn’t bother him. “Talking about me? Everyone is. How safe is this line?”

  “Safe as it gets, but don’t use trigger words, if you know what I mean. What do you need?”

  “My friends and I want to… um, visit a place tomorrow. Here’s the thing, it’s really secure, do you have anything we can use?”

  Patterson laughed deeply. “Of course I do, come on by, I’ll have a grab bag of toys ready. Do you need anything else, and hey, did you talk to Seymour?”

  “Sorta. He’s a bit weird, so it wasn’t a long call.”

  “He’s way more than a bit weird, and no surprise that it was short, ‘cause he has a thing against phones. See you guys tomorrow,” he said and hung up.

  With a quick glance at the time on the phone, Wyatt decided they could use a short visit with Shazam, and learn if he’d got any information. Their returned to the HUC, the group wandered towards the park, taking their time, the girls talking.

  Wyatt was still jittery after being caught by the dealer the day before. He kept an eye behind them, while simultaneously making sure to watch for cracks in the concrete. If he stepped on one, he had to go back and cross it again.

  Hannah whispered, “Careful, don’t step….”

  “Oh, shut up,” he said, knowing exactly what she was going to say. As he looked at her with a smile, he recognized a figure on the street behind them. “We have company,” he said. Ari looked back and winced. “Don’t give us away.”

  “Oh, hush,” said Ira, “she already knows you’ve seen her.”

  “I noticed,” he said. Trix was behind them, alone, a half block back, not moving fast enough to catch them, but not so slow as to fall farther behind. “I’m getting tired of her, she’s my own personal stalker.” Wyatt stopped, turned and spread out his arms as if to say, ‘What?’

  Trix laughed out loud, a deep belly chuckle, stopped as well and spread her arms out, mirroring him. “Free city,” she yelled. “Just out for a walk.”

  “Where’s your friends?”

  “Eating, slowly. Thought I’d take an evenin constitutional without em. Good dat I did,” she said and pointed to his left. “Hi, Dally.”

  Wyatt looked to his left. A group of men who’d been sitting on a porch sauntered down towards them. They were a dirty lot. One said, “Trix, leave them to us, we don’t want trouble with you.”

  Trix said, “I saw em first, Dally. Leave em alone, they’re too much for you anyhow.”

  “Don’t think so. How about you pick one, we get the others? Girl or boy, your choice,” said Dally. Long hair framed a longer face with a patchy and sparse half beard.

  Wyatt counted, there were seven of them, now in a circle around them. “We don’t want trouble,” he said, knowing it didn’t matter what he said, but… well, it’s one of those things you said.

  “Too bad, you found it. Empty your pockets, drop the backpack and you can go on your way.”

  Wyatt took in the group and shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

  Dally shrugged sadly in turn, as if the answer was expected, but nevertheless disappointing. He stepped forward, a hand in his pocket. Wyatt had noticed this, as well as the bulge that indicated the hand wasn’t flat.

  Perhaps it was his OCD, but Wyatt had always noticed patterns that nobody else did. Information at times overwhelmed him. Often it was a pain in the ass, but right now it allowed him to be fully aware of everyone around him. He took in where they were, how they were standing, who had their weight on what foot and where their hands were.

  “This could have been easier,” Dally said, took another step forward and pulled his hand out of his pocket. With a quick flick, he opened a switchblade.

  Wyatt wryly thought to himself, I’m sick of being right. Without looking down, he avoided the blade, took one step forward and slammed his fist into Dally’s jaw, exactly like Rocky had taught him. Avoid the weapon, he’d say, incapacitate the person. Dally’s head snapped back and he fell to the ground.

  As the man dropped, Trix leapt forward, r
unning right at him. He wanted to turn back and help with the other six, but Trix was huge, only twenty feet away, and running fast. With his back foot planted hard, he put his fists up. She wanted a fight, well, she wouldn’t be the first girl he’d punched.

  As she approached, he hesitated. There was a look of alarm on her face and her eyes were focused not on him, but over his shoulder.

  “Down,” she yelled and he instinctively listened, and ducked. With a deftness that belied her size, she stepped to the right and put a big arm out as she passed him.

  A shot rang out from behind him as he fell to the ground. Her arm connected with the neck of the man who’d shot where his head had been moments before. The man flew backwards, feet in the air, as she closelined him.

  Wyatt stood back up, the gurgling sound of the fallen gang member telling him that this threat wasn’t one anymore. He put up a fist and then let it fall to his side as he turned and took in the scene. The fight was almost over.

  Two were already on the ground at the feet of Ari and Ira. A third dropped as Ira slammed an elbow into his face without looking and a fourth dropped as Ari delivered three rapid punches to his groin. Another man kneeled, screaming. Hannah had his head between her hands, her eyes closed. Hannah pulled her hands back and her target fell to the ground, gurgling and crying like a baby.

  One of the gang members stumbled into Wyatt and turned, his fists up. Wyatt pulled his own arm back, ready to level the small, skinny guy with a punch. Before he could deliver, Trix grabbed his opponent by the neck and crotch and yanked him over her head. She grinned at Wyatt and winked.

  As Ari and Ira dropped their two opponents to the ground, Trix threw hers. Both put their spiked heels in the air, and he flew into them, his face hitting one heel, his groin the other.

  Wyatt looked at the scene in amazement. It was over within a matter of seconds and all that was left was a group of moaning men.

  “You guys are fun,” said Trix. “Can I walk with you?”

  Wyatt hesitated, but at a glance from Ari, he reluctantly nodded. The twins put their arms around Trix and continued their walk to the park.

  Ira made sure to grind her heel into the hand of one of the men who wasn’t out cold. He screamed in pain and they continued on their way. “Never mess with a Dog,” she said.

  “Bitch,” another man responded.

  Hannah scowled and stepped towards him, causing him to crawl quickly away in fear. She turned away and sweetly said, “I am a bitch and don’t you forget it,” and took Wyatt by the arm.

  “Glad I was here to protect you,” Wyatt said with good humor.

  “I know, us girls, we’d have been in trouble if you hadn’t been here to...um, lend us moral support.”

  “You saw, I punched one of them,” he said.

  “Yes, you’re a big, strong man,” she replied with a laugh that he reciprocated.

  From in front, he heard Trix say, “So, is he single?”

  “Yup,” said one of the twins, Wyatt wasn’t sure which, their voices were too similar. “But he’s in love with Hannah.”

  “Too bad,” Trix said. “So, what are you guys doing?” she asked.

  “We’re going to see Shazam.”

  “Ugh, why do you spend so much time with him? He’s a sleaze.”

  “All men are, but he’s mostly safe and he’s fun to party with.”

  “I don’t think your friends back there are the party types,” said Trix.

  “Truth, sister, you speak the truth.”

  Wyatt and Hannah had dropped back farther behind the others and he had to protest, “I’m not in love with you, you know.”

  Hannah still had her arm in his. “Sure you are, but that’s okay, you can take your time figuring it out. Boys are slow.”

  He thought about that as they walked. “Are you in love with me?” he had to ask, and she laughed in reply. That was that, and he shut up rather than dig a deeper hole.

  Five minutes later, they were in the park. Trix hugged the twins and sauntered back to Wyatt. “I warned you before, be careful, you four stick out like sore thumbs. Everyone here is out for themselves, don’t forget that.”

  Hannah disagreed. “People aren’t all bad.”

  Trix shook her head. “Nope, didn’t say they were. But when hungry, homeless and desperate, we’re all a bit animal.”

  That was quite deep and philosophical. There was more beneath the surface of her than he’d realized. As she turned to leave, he joked, “What, no robbery this time around?”

  She came back, took his head in one huge hand and pulled him in for a deep kiss. Wyatt couldn’t have resisted if he wanted to, but he didn’t want to. Her lips were soft, not at all what he’d expected.

  Trix looked at him as she pulled away and appeared satisfied at his shocked expression. “Not bad,” she said. As she turned and walked away, she waved a couple cash cards in the air. “And thanks for these, sexy.”

  Wyatt checked his pockets and wasn’t surprised to find that his left one was empty. Soft lips and gentle hands. Impressive, he thought, for a sasquatch.

  Hannah chuckled and led him after the twins. “You like her,” she said, and he didn’t reply, not sure what to say. “What happened to our love?” she asked and laughed out loud at his reaction. He swore he’d never understand women.

  They spent the next three hours with Shazam and various friends of his who popped in and out of the tent. Despite his affliction, he was clearly popular, well-liked by everyone. Wyatt relaxed in the man’s company, he was full of stories and quick to laugh along with others.

  Shortly before they needed to leave to get in before the nine-o’clock HUC curfew, he found a moment when only the five of them were alone to ask what he’d been wondering.

  “Did you find out anything about the gang we’re tracking?”

  Shazam shook his head, a look of profound disappointment on his face. “I’ve asked around as quietly as I could, but nobody knows the dealers, and they’re not from the neighborhood.”

  “How’d they get into it then? Where’d they come from?” Wyatt wondered out loud.

  “Hey, everyone wants to know. Nobody’s happy, they’re taking from the community, not putting anything into it.”

  Wyatt scoffed. “Dealers put into the community?”

  Shazam nodded earnestly. “The ones who they’ve displaced used to sell to rich kids, ones from the burbs or the colleges. The money they got came back to places like this. Ain’t legal, but doesn’t make it wrong,” he said.

  Wyatt let that sit for a moment—it was exactly what Sandra had said days before. Perhaps she was right, but this wasn’t the time for philosophical discussions. He checked his phone and saw that it was time to leave, the center would close in an hour. “Let us know if you find anything,” he said.

  The group returned to the HUC. As much as he yearned for his bed, he needed to leave Joshua a message – he wouldn’t make the morning meeting. When Wyatt arrived at the counselor’s office, he was disappointed to see the door open.

  After a moment’s hesitation, he took a deep breath, steeled himself and stepped into the doorway. The man looked up and smiled. Such an annoying smile, thought Wyatt.

  “I’m not going to make it tomorrow morning,” he said.

  “We had a deal,” the man said. “And you still can keep it, I start early, we can do it before…” he trailed off, clearly hoping that Wyatt would tell him his plans.

  Wyatt didn’t fill the empty space and didn’t want to lie. He still didn’t understand the purpose of their chats and didn’t care, it was a waste of his time. Hannah had asked him why he went, and the honest answer was it was easier than not going. They needed a room and if a do-gooder wanted to talk, it was a small price to pay. “How about we do it tonight? One question, fifteen minutes.”

  Joshua stared for a moment, turned over the papers in front of him and waved at a chair. “Of course.”

  “We’re only here for another night or two, I can pay now
.” Wyatt pulled two hundred-dollar bills out of his pocket and placed them on the desk.

  “One day at a time, that’s the rule,” said Joshua. He picked one bill off the desk and put it in a drawer, leaving the other between them.

  “Why is that a rule?”

  Joshua shrugged. “Most people like to know where they stand. Don’t you?”

  Wyatt let out a long sigh. “Fifteen minutes, is that your question for the night?”

  “Perhaps,” said the man, frustratingly enigmatic as always.

  “I like to know where I stand and don’t know why you made these sessions part of the price of staying here.”

  “Are you saying you like clarity, order and are uncomfortable with this?”

  “You answer my question, I’ll answer yours,” said Wyatt, finding himself frustrated and on the verge of anger.

  Joshua sat back in his chair, pushing it up so he could rock back and forth, his eyes never leaving Wyatt. He puckered his lips and didn’t reply. It was the usual game played by counselors everywhere, stay silent long enough that the other person gets uncomfortable and speaks first. Wyatt was used to it from sessions with his school therapists.

  The two men sat silently for six minutes. Wyatt was sure of this because he kept his eyes on the clock on the wall behind Joshua after the first thirty seconds threatened to turn into a staring contest.

  His silence was rewarded when Joshua gave in first. “I asked for these sessions because I want to understand you, Wyatt. You’re special.”

  Compliments, another tool used by counselors. Throw in mirroring, and this would be perfect, thought Wyatt. He stayed silent.

  Joshua leaned forward, and the eager and earnest counselor vanished. “There’s a war coming. We need you.”

  This was unexpected. Wyatt hesitated and stared back at the intent man who was on the edge of his seat, leaning over his desk. “War?” he asked, hesitant.

  His voice now a bare whisper, Joshua replied, “I was rich. I grew up in Grosse Ile, I never met a poor person until I went to university. It was there that eyes were opened to my privilege; to what I’d done.”

  Wyatt shook his head.