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

by Blou Bryant

  “Slow and easy,” said Rocky. The street lights were out—the city didn’t bother except at intersections, and not in this part of town.

  Wyatt brought up the rear. He turned his head left and right, keeping an eye on the police. “So far, so…” he said just as he saw an officer get out of one car and swing a light towards them.

  “Run,” Rocky said and took off for the house in front of them. The door opened as they crossed the broken sidewalk, and he barreled through without waiting or looking back. The twins and Emm followed.

  A man dressed in a racoon suit closed the door behind him and dropped a bar down to lock it. “What’s up Rock?” he asked. “Cops on the corners… everyone’s worried.” He pulled off his mask, revealing a long thin face that looked stretched. An impeccably trimmed goatee said he didn’t belong in the Zone.

  Wyatt took a deep breath and followed them into a large room. The main floor had been hollowed out into one big open space. Men—and women? —dressed in animal outfits sat on a variety of very expensive looking furniture. A few were lying together on a pair of king size beds, cuddling and scratching at each other. What the hell?

  Ari giggled. “Furry party, and we weren’t invited?”

  “I know, right, sis,” replied Ira.

  Wyatt favored them both with a scowl.

  “Mario, cops are raiding the Zone. You’ll be among the first, so you need to move. Sandra’s sending cars to the back.”

  A bear stood up and pulled off its mask, revealing an older man, his well coifed gray hair sticking up. “Raiding here? I don’t think so,” he said and touched on his ear to activate his phone.

  “Nothing,” said Emm. “All cell is down… I noticed it cut out as we crossed into the Zone.”

  “Down because the cops are jamming it, or down because of Joe?”

  She shook her head. “It’s not jamming, that’s a different pattern. There isn’t anything, it’s just out. Joe… perhaps,” she said, unsure of herself.

  The gray-haired man strode forward and took Mario by the arm. “What’s going on?” He had a panicked look to him. “I can’t get caught here,” he said. As if he suddenly realized there were strangers in the room, he turned from Wyatt and the girls in surprise and put his mask back on.

  “They wouldn’t dare,” the racoon man said, shaking his head dismissively. “The people here… they aren’t nobody.”

  Wyatt grimaced. “The people leading this attack don’t care who you are.”

  “It’s not people,” muttered Emm. Louder, she said, “This isn’t a normal raid and the man—thing—running it won’t care who you are or who you know.”

  “Thing?”

  Rocky still had Mario by the arm. “Trust them. This is more than a normal raid.”

  Other men and women dressed in animal costumes had gathered around, many with their masks off, worry lining their faces. Wyatt glared at Rocky. This was a waste of time. “Let’s go. We need to get Teri and the others.”

  A bang, bang on the door interrupted him. “Police, open up.”

  “Shit,” was Mario’s only reply. The few furries who hadn’t got up at their entry now congregated in the living room, fear evident in their stances, even though he couldn’t see their faces.

  Wyatt joined the crowd in the living room, brushing past several to look out the window. Several cars were out front now, two on the lawn. They were serious about taking the Zone.

  “We need to get out,” said Emm.

  Agreeing, he took her by the hand. “Ari, Ira, we have to move.”

  “How do we get out?” he asked Mario. “It’s us they want.”

  “You brought them here?” asked a… well, it wasn’t clear what it was, the fevered dream of a sports mascot junkie. Blue floppy ears topped a garish orange face with a long snout.

  Rocky pointed down a long hall. “Through the kitchen, then into a laundry. There’s an exit, get to it and get out. Sandra should have someone waiting on the other side—if the police aren’t already.”

  A bear moved towards the door and Mario held him back. “We don’t hand people over, not without reason.”

  Not bothering to wait on the outcome of the argument, Wyatt pushed through the crowd, one hand pulling Emm after him. He assumed Ari and Ira would follow him. He shuddered at the feel of fake fur brushing against his arms as he squeezed between partiers. He hoped it was fake.

  The small group passed through the hall and kitchen, not stopping to marvel at the polished steel and oiled wood that must have cost tens of thousands of dollars. The animal-wannabes might be outcasts in their spare time, but they weren’t wanting for money.

  The second door led to a laundry room… on the other end of which was another door that revealed a street through a small window.

  Hesitantly, he crept forward, leaving the light off. The caution wasn’t necessary, there were no police lights out back, no men standing on the porch waiting to bash down the door. The attack on the Zone might have started, but wasn’t even a block in yet.

  He threw open the door and Ari and Ira pushed past him, chalikars twirling in hand. Despite the stress of the moment, he almost chuckled as his two pint-sized bodyguards went through first. There had been a time in his life where he would have chaffed at the idea that small, younger, women would protect him—or that they would need to. No more. He waited for the all clear.

  Wyatt turned at a noise behind him and let out a quiet curse as Rocky arrived. With a grunt, the big man pushed past. “They’re staying. We’re going. What are you waiting on?”

  I was being smart and having them scout for me. Wyatt followed the big man out the door. Ari was halfway back up the lane and waved them on to two waiting cars. “All clear.”

  Ahmed was behind the wheel. “Always driving the boss-man around,” he said as Wyatt climbed in the front.

  Wyatt raised an eyebrow, and the other man grinned. “Ain’t complaining. Had to wave my piece at three guys to get the gig.” He was shirtless and had his gun tucked between his legs, looking exactly like the gangster he had been—and perhaps still was. He also appeared to be fully in his element, smiling a broad, half toothless smile.

  A minute later they were out front of the HUC. The police weren’t there yet, but Wyatt didn’t think they’d take long. The amount of manpower… the scale of the operation, it wasn’t to keep everyone in. It was to take them out, he was sure of that. Joe and Jessica were done with cat and mouse.

  Sandra and Hannah were waiting outside on the porch, their faces lined and tired. “Get all the altereds together,” he said, without any pleasantries. “We’re leaving.”

  “Everyone… altereds?” asked Sandra.

  “Everyone that I’ve infected with this cursed virus. That’s why the cops are out there.”

  Hannah replied, “The police say they’re here because of the killings the other day.”

  There was a hesitation in how she said it that made him wait. He cocked his head and nodded to her to continue.

  “What happened—it’s Jessica, isn’t it?”

  Taking her by both arms, he said only, “There isn’t time, trust me.”

  When she said “Sandra, get everyone,” he let out a long breath. Hannah was a constant wonder, this woman he’d known—and dated, on and off—for the last four years. She—and so many others—trusted him in ways that continued to surprise.

  She asked, “How will you get out? The Zone is locked down.”

  She was right there, he had to think fast. There was a place he liked to run through, usually quiet except for the occasional junkie. “The gulley on the other side of the park. They got streets and intersections covered, but I doubt they have that. And if they do… we’ll go through them.”

  He had one more thing to take care of. “Ari and Ira, stay here. Keep people together and get them ready to leave. Emm and I need to see Seymour.”

  Chapter 18

  Despite the late—or early—hour, they found the programmer awake, sitting on th
e floor in the Dog’s common room, clicking away on a tablet. Wyatt moved to throw him the bag of black boxes, reconsidered, and walked it over. “The files downloaded, or at least I think they were….”

  “You think?” said Seymour, hefting himself to his feet with a slight groan. He wore loose white pants and a bright striped Nehru shirt.

  Wyatt helped the man up, admiring his clothing… well, the audacity of it. “Emm…,” he said, looking to her for help. He didn’t know what had happened, not like she did. She’d been inside the machine.

  She turned to him in confusion. “All the green lights were on, we downloaded it through wireless.”

  “You didn’t get in the server room?” asked Seymour.

  “No, there were complications.”

  “Then it didn’t work. This can’t be done through wireless. That’s why we break in.”

  “Usually, but this wasn’t usual. The AI downloaded it herself,” said Wyatt and grimaced as he referred to the machine using the human pronoun.

  “Well, she started to,” said Emm. “She already had some of our program on her system, I saw it when I interfaced. She asked me about it and knew we were there to upload more. I swear… she wanted us to upload it. Then Joe arrived, and I don’t know what happened, but it looked like it was still downloading. The green lights activated,” she said, as if that was the end of it.

  “How do you know it succeeded? The lights mean it uploaded, but not that it uploaded to the right place.”

  Emm shrugged. She didn’t know.

  Confused, Wyatt said, “She told us.”

  “She did?” asked Emm.

  “Oh,” he responded. “When Joe was there… didn’t you hear her?”

  “No, my connection dropped when he arrived. You were talking to her?”

  “She was talking to me… through the earbud I took from the security guard. She told me to delay Joe, to distract him. When the last green light went off, she said it was complete and she turned the power off to let us escape.”

  Emm hadn’t been at all aware of any of that, at least not by her expression. “We talked…” she said and stopped, her eyes turning to the ceiling as she remembered. “When I first linked in, I did the usual—looked for the security pathways to open the door. Usually it’s a separate system and easy enough to hack. But this was integrated, and I needed to hack the AI.”

  “Smart,” muttered Seymour. “If you’ve got a billion dollar AI, you might as well use it for everything you can…” he trailed off.

  “I guess,” said Emm. “But hacking an AI with my implants isn’t the same as hacking a normal program. I can handle normal code, it’s building blocks, you rearrange them and… boom, you’re in.”

  “Not with an AI. They can rearrange their own building blocks, and if you play with them, they know it.”

  “Exactly. But she didn’t fight back at first. She was curious and watched. She told me that I wasn’t allowed to make the changes, but in a way that made me think she wanted me to, but was prevented from letting me.”

  “But you uploaded the data. How?”

  “Instead of forcing the change, I tried to find a way to let her allow the change herself, placing options in low risk subroutines rather than going after the main security code. I inserted a few lines here and there, and one of them—I couldn’t tell you which—seemed to work, because she gave me access. Then I set them to upload.”

  “How is it that you’re talking to them and they’re talking back?”

  “They want to,” she protested. “It’s not like I’m going looking for this.”

  “I built an AI, there’s no way… no way they work like this. Is there?” The last was a question, not a statement, and he lapsed into silence.

  Wyatt pointed to the bag. “Doesn’t matter. You got your boxes, check them, do your thing. We have to get out of here. We’ll be in touch.”

  Seymour tapped on his ear. “Patterson,” he said. “Wyatt’s on the run again. Bring the stuff to the HUC. I’m heading back home until things cool down.”

  Emm ran over and gave him a hug. “How will you get out?”

  With a broad smile, Seymour hugged her back. “No worries, little hacker. You’re looking at one of the top donors to the United Police Brotherhood.” With this, he led the way back downstairs.

  There were twenty or more gathered when they arrived out front.

  Was this all they’d found? There should be so many more. Whenever he walked the Zone, Wyatt came upon one or another person that he’d healed. Infected. They learned to give him space, or perhaps they feared what he represented, the unknown future, the something that coursed through their veins. The transfer had almost always worked, and healed them with no change beyond removing the cancer, the infection or whatever had put them on his path. A few had other effects, like Hannah, with her ability to heal, or Ari and Ira and their enhanced mental connection.

  Standing in front of the group, Wyatt considered what to say. They stared at him, waiting, wondering. All he’d said was to gather them. Hannah was at the front, and she sensed his hesitation, his discomfort. “Are you ready?”

  “Is this everyone?” It couldn’t be.

  “It’s everyone we could find at three in the morning. The others will be hidden through the Zone, in attics, basements and wherever we can put them.”

  “We? You need to come too.”

  She refused with a smile. “I’ll stay behind and do what I can to protect those who remain.”

  This was foolishness. He opened his mouth to disagree, but in the way her lips were set, her shoulders squared, he knew it would be wasted breath. She was who she was and wasn’t going to change simply because of whatever pretty words he could round up. She never did.

  Not sure how to say goodbye, not in front of everyone, he offered his hand. “Stay safe,” was all he said.

  With a laugh, and a shake of her long red curls, she ignored the hand and pulled him close for a hug. “Take care of Teri,” she said, and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

  “She’s here?” he said, feeling both relief and trepidation.

  “The twins got her,” said Hannah, pointing towards the back.

  At least there was that. Returning the hug, pulling her tight to him, he whispered, “Be safe. Can you do that?”

  “I will, if you will,” she replied and gave him another kiss.

  Wyatt broke off the embrace. “We’ll fix this.”

  “You will, I know you will. You always do.”

  Rocky joined them. “Ready?”

  He was. He should have felt tired, but instead his body hummed with energy. There was a row of cars ready to bring the group to the top of the gully. Ten minutes later, everyone was assembled at the top of a ridge, looking down into a welcoming darkness. The absence of light meant an absence of police.

  They weren’t silent—far from it—but the soft conversation interspersed with the cracking of branches and leaves underfoot didn’t bother or worry him. Anyone in the small forest at this hour was up to worse than the strange group that navigated the dark.

  At the bottom of the hill, Ahmed was waiting for them on the hood of an idling yellow school bus that had seen better days. The houses behind it were hollowed out shells and piles of rubble. “‘Bout time,” he chirped and winked. He jumped down and theatrically bowed. “All aboard,” he shouted.

  With a wry grin, Wyatt stepped back to let the rest in first. “Nobody drives but you, that the rule?”

  “Only the best for you, boss.”

  “How many’d you threaten this time?”

  “Didn’t need to, not with these,” he said and flexed his thin arms in what Wyatt thought was self-depreciation. Ahmed was a hard man to read, a strange mix of bravado and wit.

  Rocky came up at the end of the group and climbed on board.

  “Rock?”

  “Get on,” he growled. “I’m comin’ too.”

  Ahmed followed Wyatt onto the bus, shut the door and revved the engin
e. “Where to?”

  “Hit the 75, south. I’ll give you directions once we’re out of town. This thing got a full tank?” asked Rocky, leaning forward to check the gauge. He grunted happily at the sight of the needle all the way to the right.

  “Damn right,” said Ahmed anyway and spat on the floor. “Still got the taste of gas from fillin’ it.”

  “It don’t turn on diesel?” asked Rocky.

  Ahmed took a turn harder than necessary, “Guess not… it’s still runnin’….” he said.

  Wyatt sat on the ripped fake leather seat, and tried to ignore the smell. He didn’t want to know where the bus had been, or what it’d been used for. Damn it, yes, I do. Why can’t I shut off my brain and the non-stop questions for even a minute. No, I’m not going to ask. “Where’d you get the bus?” he asked.

  “Shooting yard. Had to toss out a few junkies… but, meh.”

  That explained the smell. At least it drove. “Where are we going?” asked Wyatt, one hand on a swing bar and the other holding on to a seat as the bus lurched forward. “You ever driven one of these things?”

  Ahmed cackled. “Right foot fast. Left foot slow.”

  “Why are you with us?” Wyatt asked Rocky, wondering about Sandra, left behind in the middle of a police net.

  “Got a place for you, won’t let you in without me.”

  Wyatt waited, wanting more.

  “You’ll see… and might get you the other thing you were asking about.”

  Wyatt didn’t ask any other questions. The man was an enigma, a simple philosopher, a straight-laced biker. He wasn’t easy to understand, but he was easy to trust.

  They passed through the ravaged subdivision and made it to the highway without incident. The bus might have been stolen, but the junkies who’d lived in it wouldn’t be calling the cops. A roundabout leading to the highway came into view and before long, they passed to the outskirts of Detroit.