Revolution: A Red Dog Thriller (The Altered Book 3)

by Blou Bryant

  On the other hand, Trix, the Dogs and he agreed on junk. Junk was stuff that ruined lives, that existed to addict the weak and enrich the morally bankrupt… those were banned, on pain of expulsion from the Zone or worse.

  “I remember,” he said. “Why are they going after that place?”

  “No clue. It’s Zone, nobody owns it, gov doesn’t care.”

  “I guess we’ll find out.”

  Ahmed grunted in agreement.

  “Trix is already there?” Wyatt asked with a mix of resignation and fear.

  “Dunno. My cousin reported it over the radio. I heard she comin’, so high-tailed it to find you. Man, you know she’s gonna be hot.”

  Wyatt didn’t disagree. Even before she’d became director, she’d considered the Zone to be hers. Now, she, with help from the Red Dogs, had allied with local gangs and the homeless and had truly taken it over. With some funding from Seymour, Detroit Zone 53 was now just ‘The Zone.’

  The Zone was officially a Reclamation Zone, one of hundreds across the state. With the falling population, the government closed off areas and allowed them to go to seed. This was supposed to create new green spaces and increase values in the remaining populated areas. Most people figured it was the government giving up.

  As they turned onto Draft, he looked left and right and was surprised to not see any of Jessica’s men. Usually there were one or two hanging out, keeping an eye on the Zone. “Where are the Watchers?” he asked, using the nickname they’d been given.

  “Like flies on shit, they’re all there.”

  This wasn’t going to go well, he thought. With a quick glance, he saw that Ahmed had a weapon on his side, an oversize Desert Eagle. “Don’t use that,” he said, pointing at it.

  “Man, it’s for self-defense only, you know that.”

  Wyatt let out a long sigh. “Caprice, are you armed as well?”

  She leaned forward and showed him her equally large Eagle. “We all are.”

  “Keep them holstered. We don’t need a firefight. You know how Trix is about attracting attention to the Zone.”

  Caprice barked out a laugh, “Don’t we know it. I’ll be good, don’t need her beating on me.”

  Ahmed slowed as they approached the house, the machinery visible behind two police cars. There was a large group of observers on the other side of the road, and what appeared to be a standoff out front of the house. As they got closer, Wyatt saw Trix’s six-foot-four frame in the middle of it. Of course she’s in the middle, he thought.

  “Stop here,” he said, three houses away. “And stay in the car.”

  “No way, man, we’re comin. Ain’t missin a party.”

  When Ahmed opened his door to get out, Wyatt leaned across him and pulled it shut. “No, you’re staying here,” he yelled. “Stay freaking here and don’t make this any worse than it has to be.”

  “Hey, man, no need…”

  “Yes, I need to yell, cause you gotta listen to me. Cause I can’t yell at you out there, shit, it looks bad enough. Stay here, all three of you. Watch out and come help if needed.”

  Wyatt got out and slammed the car door shut. He wanted to run towards the group, but instead walked slowly, composing himself. It appeared already volatile, with gang bangers, police and Watchers way too close to each other. Off to the side were the workers, sitting on their machines drinking coffee. They were probably getting paid either way.

  He recognized three Red Dogs. Ezzy saw him first, tapped Sandra on the shoulder and pointed at him. They ran to join him.

  “How’s it going?” he asked in as relaxed a voice as he could muster.

  Sandra gave a sigh of relief when he joined her. After he’d rescued the Dogs a few months before, she’d came to lean on him more and more in running the gang. She was a leader in her own way, but had never enjoyed being the boss. It was too constrained, too dull and too... normal, for her. “It’s a mess. police want everybody out, the workers have some court order, it seems everything is legal.”

  “And the Watchers?”

  “Just in the neighborhood, they say, as peacekeepers. Private citizens, blah blah, the usual BS, lying assholes.”

  “At least Trix hasn’t been arrested yet. Hard to believe she hasn’t hit anyone,” said Wyatt with a wry smile as they approached the group.

  “Yeah, she did. Guy’s already on his way to the hospital. It was before the cops arrived. They tried to arrest her, and we stopped them. The sergeant there is trying to negotiate her surrender. He’s pretty calm, but nobody else is.”

  As they got closer, three of the Watchers peeled off from the main group and intercepted him. The leader was a big man, blond, wearing their usual outfits—black slacks, black button-down shirt. His face looked freckled, but Wyatt knew it was a sign that he was on Jessica’s special cocktail of drugs. It made her men stronger, faster and close to immune to pain. It also made them a pain in the ass to fight.

  “Where does momma shop for you guys? Blacks Black Emporium? Does she have something against colors?”

  The one in the center scowled. Wyatt had a few run-ins with them when they’d first arrived and he’d quickly learned that the one thing they hated most of all were insults directed at Jessica. “You aren’t welcome here. This is a police affair.”

  Wyatt moved to go around them, but two blocked him. Several officers were watching, but didn’t intervene and he didn’t want to give them a reason to. “You don’t work for the police; you work for a twisted hag. Let me through.”

  The scowl was replaced with a flash of rage. “Don’t you talk about her…”

  “It…” interrupted Wyatt. “You mean it, because she’s not a she anymore.”

  The one on the left pushed forward but Sandra stopped him. “Don’t try anything, little boy,” she said. The man must have weighed fifty pounds more than her. Jessica liked her men big, but he stopped at Sandra’s raised hand.

  Wyatt took a step forward. “Listen, get out of the way and let me talk to the police.”

  The one in the middle looked behind him and appeared to gain confidence at the sight of several of his colleagues and the police. “It’s time for you to leave.”

  Wyatt ignored him and glanced beyond them. When he saw that Trix was yelling at the sergeant, he grew even more impatient. This situation was deteriorating fast, and he had to get to her before she did something stupid. He looked back to the car and motioned for the other three to get out. They sprang out of the car, as if they’d been waiting, and joined Sandra and Wyatt.

  With backup in place, he said, “I’m going to talk to the police, not to you. If you stop me, they’ll arrest you.” He hoped he sounded more confident than he felt.

  Luckily, the Watchers didn’t block him as he walked around them. Wyatt broke into a light jog and crossed the last lawn to join the others. Two officers moved to stop him and he put his hands up and out, slowing. “I’m with the director, just here to talk. Sergeant, can I help?”

  The young officer looked unhappy. He had an unenviable job, required to keep the peace in a city always on the brink of explosion. Nobody called the police when they were happy or when they were having a great day. Nobody reported a good deed. “No, you can’t help. I need everyone to leave and let these guys,” he indicated the workers behind him, “do their job.”

  Trix ignored Wyatt’s arrival. “And I’ve told you ten times, we’re not letting them tear down our community.”

  “And I’ve told you eleven times, you have no authority here.”

  Wyatt moved so that he was partially between them. With his most winning smile, he checked the name tag on the officer’s shirt. “Officer Olde, she’s director of the Zone 53 Hand Up Center, and she’s only doing her job.”

  The middle Watcher had joined them. “This isn’t a HUC, and she has no authority here. We demand the police do their job, or we’ll do it.”

  Wyatt seethed at the arrogance, “That sounds like a threat. Who the hell are you?”

  “My
name is Perce, and it’s not a threat, we’re licensed security with Watchers Inc., on retainer for the City and BridgeNorth, the company hired to demolish this house. Under Sherman’s Law, we have the right to protect our property and business.”

  Olde sighed and raised both his hands in the air, asking for everyone to be calm. “That doesn’t apply with police on site. Officers Sanji and Gordon, come up here,” he yelled. He turned back to the group around him. “Everyone is going to calm down and relax. I’m going to separate you and we’ll talk this out individually.”

  Wyatt was impressed at his composure in the face of yelling, angry opponents. “Trix, let the man do his job,” he said, taking her by the arm.

  She angrily shrugged him off. “I’m not letting them tear it down.”

  He got between her and Olde, staring up at her. “And you won’t, but you can stop them just as well from the stoop of the house, right?” He indicated the porch. “Let’s go over there and wait for the officer. Sandra, can you…”

  Sandra got it. She gently took Trix by the arm—not shrugged off, this time—and led her and the others back to the house. Caprice and Ahmed stayed with Wyatt, but at a wave, backed off, halfway to the house.

  Perce was still with them. Olde scowled at him. “You too, over there. I’ll join you in a minute and we can talk this out.”

  “I have the right…”

  “You have the right to be tasered if you don’t get over there.”

  “Why’s he allowed to stay?” asked Perce, a finger pointing at Wyatt.

  Wyatt didn’t want to cause any more trouble for the young officer. “We’ll go wait at the house.”

  “No, wait here. I want to talk to you first. Now move it,” he said to the punk. When Perce looked ready to stand his ground, and four other Watchers with him, the officer put his hand on his taser.

  Muttering to his buddies, Perce moved off and left Wyatt alone with Olde. “Thanks,” the officer said. “And you are…” The officer waited.

  “I live in the Zone.”

  “I got that. Why’d they listen to you?”

  Great question, thought Wyatt. Why do people listen to me?

  “The big one, I thought she was going to punch me.”

  “Trix, and yes, she might have,” Wyatt said with a nod. He looked back at the group on the porch. Trix was there, scowling.

  “Talking to you… it’s like pulling teeth.”

  He wasn’t the first person to tell Wyatt that. “What do you want to know?”

  “The bangers listened to you too… but you don’t look street. Who are you?

  “Wyatt.” He paused for a moment before adding, “Millar.”

  Olde let out a hiss at that. “Oh.” He paused a second, looked back behind him and then at everybody on the porch. “Really?”

  Wyatt wasn’t surprised at the response. Six months ago, he’d exposed corrupt cops working for Jessica and a drug gang. Eight police officers had been arrested, charged and convicted. It had been front page news for weeks. The Jessica part hadn’t, she’d kept that well covered up.

  All the local beat cops knew, or thought they knew, what had happened in Zone 53. A drug gang run by Ivy league trust fund kids, broken up. A HUC director murdered, replaced, and then replaced again. Wyatt hadn’t been in the papers, and didn’t need to testify, but locals talked about him, he knew that. “Yes,” was his weary response.

  “Is this…” the officer said and paused. “What’s going on with all this?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “It’s a mess. Going to be a bigger mess now.” Now that Wyatt was involved, he meant. “Don’t get me wrong, I hear you people have cleaned up the Zone, that’s great. We get a lot less calls. None, actually.”

  “Trix takes care of her own, they all do,” said Wyatt.

  “Still, legal is legal. The crew has a right to tear these down.”

  “These?” Wyatt had thought only one house was to be demolished.

  “The whole row and the street behind it, that’s what the order says. This is just the first house.”

  Wyatt gaped at the officer. Two blocks of houses? “Does the Rep know?” he asked, referring to Marylyn Goldsmith. She was the representative for the area on City Council… and a Red Dog, although a secret one. “There’s no way she would have approved this.”

  “Guy, that’s politics, I don’t know, nobody tells me. All I’ve got is the order they showed me.”

  “And it’s real?”

  Olde shrugged. “Looks real, but I’m no lawyer.”

  “Let us get one down here then. Let me call the Rep and get her down here. That avoids a fight, right?”

  Olde nodded. “Great idea.” With one more glance behind him, he pulled out a cellphone. “Go back to your friends. I’ll tell my captain that politicians and lawyers are going to get involved. He’ll love that.”

  Wyatt motioned to Caprice and Ahmed, “Join everyone else.” He gave Olde a brief wave of thanks and turned to walk away when he overheard the officers side of the conversation.

  “But captain, we can’t….” There was a pause and Olde’s face flushed. “If we do that… I know, but… no, sir. No, there isn’t…. Yes… yes, sir.”

  Wyatt stopped and turned to face the officer. He already guessed. When Olde hung up, he said, “You’ve been called away?”

  His face red, Olde simply nodded. “The captain said we’re needed elsewhere.” He sounded deflated and avoided looking Wyatt in the eye.

  “This won’t end well,” Wyatt said, and pointed to the Watchers. “They’re not taking no for an answer.”

  “Then let them start their work. What’s the worst that’ll happen, one house gets torn down? You can get your politician in, get a lawyer, get an order…”

  “That’s great, but I know my friends. They’ll stay.”

  “It’s on you, not me. Convince them.”

  “I’m not… I can’t, I won’t be able to. Can’t you…”

  “Stay? Get demoted for disobeying a direct order?”

  “It’s the right thing to do,” said Wyatt, pleading with the officer, begging him.

  “So is making enough money to feed my wife and kids.”

  Wyatt didn’t have an answer for that. With so many unemployed, there was no such thing as job security. He’d read on the internet that people could be fired with no notice under some new law. The politicians had named it something grandiose about job protection, but that’s what it boiled down to. “I understand. Don’t go too far?”

  Olde finally looked up. “I’ve been ordered to the other side of town. Call 911 if it goes bad, but don’t expect help to come fast. I don’t think it was the captain’s decision any more than it is mine. Take my advice. Convince your friends to leave.”

  Wyatt took a deep breath and tried to figure out what to do next. He wanted to yell and scream at the officer, but restrained himself. It wasn’t the cop’s fault, he was just a cog in a machine. Instead he put out a hand, and the two shook. “Thanks,” he said.

  “For nothing, I know. I’m sorry. Good luck to you,” he said, clearly distraught and torn, but still resolved to leave. “Sanji, Gordon, we’re out of here,” he said, joining his two fellow officers. One asked why and he simply shook his head. “Get in the damn car.”

  As the two cars pulled away, Wyatt looked over to the Watchers and construction workers. The latter were still relaxed, watching the scene. In a strange way, it had nothing to do with them. The leader of the Watchers, however, was smiling. He waved a cellphone at Wyatt. So, he’d made a call, and minutes later the police were withdrawn. It was as if the trial had never happened. Corruption was a weed. Pull one, another ten grew in its place.

  At the sound of movement behind him, he turned. Trix was striding towards him with the rest following her. A flash of a weapon under a jacket reminded him how bad this could get. “Stop,” he said as she got closer.

  “Out of my way,” she said as he took her by the arm. She tried to twist
away, but this time he held strong.

  Sandra joined Trix next to Wyatt, everyone else spread out behind them. “Why’d they leave?”

  Wyatt considered lying, but couldn’t come up with a good explanation. “They were called off.”

  “Then we’ll deal with it,” said Trix. She moved to walk down to the Watchers and Wyatt tightened his grip on her arm. When she tried to pull away, he spun her back so that she faced him.

  “Don’t be an idiot. What’s the point of going over there? You want to show how tough you are?”

  Her face flushed red and she tried to pry his hand off her arm. “Let me go,” she said, low, quiet and threatening. Their relationship wasn’t on the best of footings, and this wasn’t going to help, thought Wyatt. “Or I’ll take you out first.”

  “Why? Calm the hell down. We’re here, they’re not tearing anything down while we’re in the way. You don’t need to fight to win, you just need to stay.”

  “What, you’ve gone Gandhi on me?”

  He didn’t reply, simply holding on tight while returning her stare.

  “You know the deal. I’m in charge.”

  “The deal is that you run the Center. But you’re the director not dictator, and this isn’t the Center. I live here too and have as much right to protect our home as you do.”

  “Then protect it, don’t just stand around.”

  She was as stubborn as ever. Wyatt took a deep breath and counted to five. This required that he ignore the pain in his hand from where she was digging her nails in, trying to pry him off her arm. Why did he always have to be the reasonable one? For once, let someone else be the adult. It was simply wishful thinking; he couldn’t change his nature any more than he could change hers.

  “I am protecting it,” he said. “I’ll sleep here if I have to, I won’t leave until we’ve made sure our community is safe. Who’s with me?”

  Sandra immediately spoke up. “I’m not leaving either.”

  First the Dogs, then the rest of the group, one by one, echoed the statement. In a world where families ruptured, homes broken and jobs temporary or non-existent, the Zone offered something deeper than a place to sleep. It was home.