Catalyst: A Red Dog Thriller (The Altered Book 1)

by Blou Bryant

  “Yes.”

  “Does Teri know that’s his plan?”

  “Yes, she does, but she said that it’s up to you. Is it, though?” she asked. “We never got to talk about it. Are you able to heal her, how does it work?”

  “I’ve thought about it but haven’t figured it out, I was feverish when I touched you, but something passed between us, or from me to you. I don’t know how it happened and am not sure if I can do it again.”

  Hannah was quiet for a while. “How about you try touching Teri?”

  “I touched her back when we were with Linkin. Nothing happened, but I wasn’t trying. I don’t know what to do, like, do I just think it? I was thinking of healing you when I touched the bullet wound, is it possible that I can make it happen?”

  “Maybe. You might have been delirious when you did it, but I was flat out cold.” She paused for a moment and then in a tender, vulnerable voice said, “Thank you, Wyatt. I guess you saved my life,” rolled over, and hugged him. “Thank you. I feel better than I have ever felt, and I suspect it’s all because of what you did to me.”

  He hugged her back, uncomfortable at first, then tightened his grip. When she rolled back to her side, he held his hands up in front of him, but couldn’t see anything in the pitch black of the room. The surrounding darkness was fitting, he felt confused and unsure of himself. He heard Hannah sigh and then her breathing deepened. He listened to her for a while, taking comfort in her presence and, not long after, fell asleep himself.

  Wyatt woke suddenly in the darkness to find his clothing damp and stuck to his skin. At some point in the night, he’d tossed off the blankets. He lay still for a while and took a moment to remember where he was. The small room was quiet enough that he could hear Hannah breathing deeply, and a faint conversation that wasn’t understandable through the walls.

  Eyes closed, he tried to go back to sleep, but his mind raced with memories of the past two days. He focused on one of his favorite dreams, imagining himself suddenly in possession of a space-ship, exploring the universe. Just as he was about to attack the evil aliens and – hopefully - drift off to sleep, he heard to the door creak. He couldn’t see anything; the hallway was just as dark as his room. He tensed, and thought about charging the door or waking Hannah. Two clicks and a grunt quickly relaxed him, it was Teri.

  Quietly enough that he wouldn’t wake Hannah, Wyatt said, “Teri, what are you doing? Go back to your room.” The door closed with a faint sound and he thought she’d left as there was silence until he felt her sit down next to him, her slight body hardly depressing the mattress at all. He could sense Teri’s hand pat the bed at his side as she searched for him, then gently she grasped his hand in hers.

  She held his hand for a moment, cool and comfortable against his own moist palm. Wyatt tried to pull back but Teri held him firmly, and then she pressed an object into his hand. He grasped it, its metallic feel familiar to him, it was a phone. Why would she bring him a phone, he wondered? What was her game, her angle? Was it an attempt to gain his trust, to convince him to share his gift with her? Did she want to use him? If so, the joke was on her, he didn’t know how it worked.

  She stayed quiet, not uttering a word, not that she could, and she pulled herself up to lay next to him, her head on his chest, quiet and peaceful, her breath slow and steady. Soon she too was asleep, leaving him awake wondering why she’d joined him and why she’d given him a phone. Why was she comfortable enough with him that she’d fallen asleep on top of him? He wasn’t around children all that often, and he generally disliked those that he’d had to spend time with.

  Wyatt lay there for a time, his mind mulling the events of the day, and eventually decided that he’d not fall asleep anytime soon and might as well get up. He rolled Teri off his chest, put her between him and Hannah, sat up on the edge of the bed, and weighed his options.

  He had a phone now, but what should he do with it, who could he call? His mother couldn’t help, there wasn’t anything she could do, and the police were probably at his house with tracking equipment tied into his home network. They were surely ready to trace the call and send Golde and his men after him.

  There was Ford, he could call him, but now that he was in league with Jessica, what’d be the point of that? Ford had betrayed him; he might have even murdered Lewis. Wyatt knew that his friend had his reasons, well, reason, one missing arm and the possibility of being whole again. The betrayal still stung, he’d been his only friend, and if there was anyone he had counted on over the last few years, it was him. Without Ford, Wyatt didn’t know who to turn to for help.

  He turned the phone on to check the time. The screen lit up the dark room, revealing Teri tucked up next to Hannah, her head against the older girl's chest. The screen-saver was an image of a yellow tractor and he recognized it as the phone that’d been given to him to him back at the diner. Esaf or Sandra must have put it aside when they removed his clothing.

  It was four-thirty in the morning. Under the time was a message, “You have 195 missed calls.” Persistent little bugger thought Wyatt, positive the calls must have been all from Joe. He sat there for another minute, to let his body wake up as he thought about how best to use the phone. Wyatt decided it was a perfect time to talk to Joe. He needed to have a quiet conversation with his mysterious hacker friend and see what he knew. It was time to make a plan.

  He grabbed his shoes and snuck to the door, opened it a crack and looked out into the dark of the hallway. While the lab was only feet away, no light came from under the door. He quietly put on his shoes and crept forward, his hand tracing the wall as he listened for noise. As he got closer, Vasca’s voice became recognizable, even if Wyatt wasn’t able to make out what he was saying. Esaf was likely in there, too quiet to hear through a closed door.

  He backed off, there was no point in listening if he couldn’t hear the scientist, he decided, and decided to find a quiet place to make the call. He hesitated and then straightened up and walked to the staircase and down the two flights of stairs. There was no need to sneak around. While he might be a hostage, nobody had said it out loud, so Wyatt figured he might as well just act like he wasn’t. The main floor was brightly lit and there were voices coming from the room where they’d met Linkin.

  “Look, meat came down to visit,” someone said with a bullying laugh. With a sigh he turned back to see Vir standing in the doorway. Wyatt noticed his hand was bandaged from wrist to finger tips. The guy smiled, baring teeth filed down to points. “And without his protector, this time. You don’t look tasty, but I’ll be happy to give you a try.”

  Wyatt shoved the phone in his back pocket. At school, he’d never taken crap. Life was easier when you worked out two hours a day and didn’t care if you made friends. And now, after the last two days of staring down people with guns, this little brat who thought he was special didn’t scare him.

  Ignoring Vasca’s warning, he stepped forward confidently. He was easily several inches taller than the wannabe vampire, and in a lot better shape. “What did you say?” he asked.

  The other guy moved back a foot and Wyatt followed. “Vir, right?”

  The other boy puffed up his chest and said, “My name is Virgilius, my tasty friend,” and looked back into the room behind him for support. There were four others, all dressed in the same black uniform, but while all stayed seated and watched, none moved to support their friend.

  “VIRGINius?” asked Wyatt, deliberately mispronouncing the name.

  “Virgilius.”

  Wyatt held up his injured hand which had still not fully closed. A small amount of blood trickled onto his palm. “I have an injured hand too, do you want a taste, Virginius?”

  “Don’t mock my name, it’s Virgilius,” the other said with a whine. The sight of blood didn’t appear to embolden him, if anything, it had the opposite effect.

  “Same difference. Go back to your friends,” said Wyatt. When he didn’t move, Wyatt pushed forward into the guy’s personal space, his shoul
ders square and head high.

  Virgilius took one more look over his shoulder and, not seeing his friends move, made a sputtering sound and backed into the room. As he sat down he said, “You Dogs think you’re tough? You won’t when I’m feeding on you, will you?”

  “We’ll see, won’t we? Where’s the kitchen?” Nobody replied, the confrontation was over and they ignored him. “What, did your moms tell you to not talk to your food?”

  Wyatt felt better and took his originally planned route through the far door into a brightly lit room. He’d chosen right, it was a large kitchen. The fridges and stoves were new, gleaming steel but the rest of the kitchen was run down and filthy. The floor was strewn with garbage except for a strip on each side of a big island where feet had kicked chip bags and candy wrappers out of the way. There were bags of bread and buns on the counter, but he avoided them and stopped for a moment to stare at the mold growing various dishes in the sink. Who lived like this?

  He opened the fridge door and wasn’t surprised to see it was nearly empty, holding only condiment containers, two cartons of eggs, and cheese that was almost fully transformed into an Irish flag, alternating green, white and some shade of orange.

  His appetite, which had mostly evaporated on entering the kitchen, was now completely gone. On his left was another door which led to what once was an ornate dining room. The walls were peeling white, or what had once been white, now stained an off yellow. In the center of the room was a long table, covered by discarded food containers except for the far end which held a board game and a variety of dice.

  Wyatt took a door out onto to a back deck, leaving behind the smell of rotting food. With a deep breath of fresh air, he stepped out under the stars and looked for a quiet place to call Joe. The early morning dew reflected the light of a quarter moon, which lit the world enough to point him towards a small swing set. To his far left was the barn, the entrance still open, a gaping dark wound in the ancient building.

  He sat down and began to swing slowly back and forth as he planned the call he was about to make. While the Dogs and the Vamps had a claim to his body, and while Golde and Jessica wanted one, Joe had nothing on him. His game, whatever it was, was intellectual and nothing more, at least not until they met. It was chess, at a distance, no guns, and no knives.

  Wyatt looked up at the sky, enjoyed a measure of peace, and as he sat under the distant stars and the closer moon, he accepted that everything was relative, and luxuriated in a sense of his own smallness. He closed his eyes and counted out his plan. One, find out if he was right about Joe, and what Joe knew. Two find out what others knew. Three, get the big ball rolling.

  One, two, three, he thought, as he pulled the phone out and clicked on redial.

  “Wyatt,” said Joe, answering instantly, even though it was early morning. Wyatt wasn’t surprised.

  “Hey, Joe. You called, a couple times?”

  “I’ve been worried,” said his odd friend, not getting the sarcasm. “How are you? Are you coming?”

  Wyatt ignored the first question although he had a lot to say on the matter. He was convinced he had the virus, the electricity was building in his body again and he was flush with a mild fever. All he said was, “I’m with friends, Joe. They’ll take care of me,” he lied.

  “The Cainites can’t be trusted, Wyatt. I’m the only one who cares about you,” replied Joe.

  So you keep saying, geek who I’ve never met. “Tell me, why do you care for me, Joe?” Wyatt said.

  “Because I want everyone to be happy,” said Joe.

  “What about the Vampires, the Cainites? Do you want them to be happy?”

  “Yes.”

  “And the Red Dogs?”

  “Yes, them too. I want everyone to be happy.”

  “Because you’re disabled, unable to leave your house?” asked Wyatt, pushing the questions fast, deliberately.

  “Yes.”

  “How can you make everyone happy, is that possible? How can you make both me and Jessica happy at the same time?”

  “Are you coming to me?” asked Joe.

  “No. I’m happy here,” Wyatt lied. “The Dogs will help me understand what’s going on inside me,” he said. He knew it wasn’t an option to stay and that he was likely in danger, but he was angling for information.

  “You’re not safe there, Wyatt,” replied Joe.

  “Why?”

  “The police are after you. And all that the Altereds want you for is what is in your blood.”

  Wyatt looked up at the stars and thought about that. Check one, Joe hadn’t said that V32 might be in his blood. He’d said that it was, and Joe wasn’t the sort to guess. He wasn’t surprised it was there, but he was surprised that Joe already knew, that meant the news was online. That could be explored further, later, “Joe, you said the police were after me? How public is it? I saw a news report yesterday.”

  “Yes, you and Hannah are wanted for multiple offenses.”

  “Show me.”

  “You want the arrest warrants?”

  “No, news video will do,” replied Wyatt. Paper didn’t matter, but what was online did. He wanted to know what others knew. “Stream it to me, you can do that, can’t you?”

  Joe replied, “I can,” and the screen switched to a video from a national service.

  An image of Hannah and Wyatt started the bit as the narrator spoke, “Two Chicago youths are wanted in a string of murders across the mid-west.” The image shifted to the outside of the party house from two nights before. “A wild rampage of carnage started at a drug party that got out of hand in the tony Chicago suburb of Wilbrook.” Police tape surrounded the house, and the next image was an aerial view that showed dozens of police cars around the home. “The two kidnapped the daughter of prominent Chicago businessman, Johnathan Golde.” Rampage, great word, thought Wyatt.

  Joe streamed another video from a Detroit network. There was a picture of the Mennar complex, burnt to the ground. “The young lovers murdered a security guard and famous scientist Nick Johannes, winner of the X-Prize for genetic manipulation, before burning down his facility. Members of the public are warned not to approach them. Both are armed and dangerous and may be infected with deadly bacteria. The police have advised that citizens should call the local authorities if they see either.” the newsreader said and pictures of the two were again splashed on the screen.

  Despite the humor in the ‘young lovers’ comment, Wyatt sighed, it would be hard to have a normal life after this, even if they weren’t arrested. “What about social media?” he asked.

  The screen changed, this time to his Facebook account. Wyatt wasn’t surprised that Joe hacked it that fast but was shocked when he saw that he had over nine thousand friend requests and had been tagged in over twenty thousand posts. The hashtag #Chicagokillerkids was trending. Given the situation, Wyatt figured he should have been curled into a ball awaiting an imminent panic attack, but instead he was amused. Nine thousand friend requests! Finally, he was the popular guy.

  Joe interrupted his thoughts, “The dash-cam video from one of the police cars of you two driving through the fence at Mennar was in the top ten on YouTube yesterday. Would you like to see it?”

  He said yes and ended up laughing out loud at the close up of the look on his face in the video, mixed by some online hacker and set to a warped version of ‘Johnny 99’ by Bruce Springsteen.

  Well, that’s enough of that, it’s worse than I thought. Check two. Now he needed Joe to get him away from the others, but not in a way that left him captive again. At the hideout, Joe had told him he was at the Blue Grass Army Depot. “You said you live on a military base? And that you can help me? Can you send someone to get me?” He had no intention of going with anyone Joe sent, but the disruption might be enough to give him a chance to escape.

  “I can’t,” was Joe’s not unexpected answer. “You need to come to me.”

  That wasn’t going to happen, not yet, not until he was ready. Wyatt decided it was ti
me to put the pressure on. “I’ll stay here. I’m safe with the Dogs.”

  “You can’t, they will use you. They’ll hurt you.”

  “I have to go, Joe. Don’t contact me anymore. I’ve made up my mind,” he said and turned off the phone. He stared back up at the stars and wondered what Joe would do now. The only thing he was sure of was that Joe would intervene in some way, and at that moment, he could escape.

  He had lied at the end; he was considering making his way to Joe. Only a hacker like him had the skills to clear his name or, if necessary, erase it. The only question was how to sneak onto a military base, get Joe to do what he wanted and get out. Wyatt laughed silently under the half-moon at the thought. Simple as one, two, three.

  Chapter 17

  Wyatt swung quietly in the dark, considering the day he’d just gone through and what his next moves would be. He was about to get up and go in when he heard the backdoor open and close. He stopped swinging, and gently dug his feet into the sand to slow his movement and stop the squeaking of the chains. A moment later the door opened and closed again.

  There were two figures now, outlined by the light of the house. Over the sound of the cricket and frogs, he heard a woman’s voice, “Hey loser, where are you going?”

  Wyatt watched quietly as the smaller figure started walking towards him. The larger of the two pushed the other one to the ground. “Don’t walk away, you circus freak.”

  At the sound of two clicks, he realized the smaller figure was Teri, and that she must have followed him out of the house. He stood up as anger flared, and ran towards them. “Hey,” he yelled, not knowing what else to say. “Stop.” He reached them in seconds and pushed the vampire away. It was the pimple faced girl from earlier.

  “Is this your girlfriend, meat bag? Are you into weirdos, is that your thing?”

  “She just a kid,” he said, and reached down to help Teri up. As their hands touched, a small jolt of electricity went through him. No, he thought, not again, and tried to pull away.