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

by Blou Bryant

“Really? Is that why you sent Jessica after me?”

  The immediate reply was, “You said you were staying with the others. I was concerned.”

  “That’s fine, buddy,” replied Wyatt. There wasn’t any point in arguing with Joe, not right away. “I need directions. Get me to the Depot.” He knew Joe would have exact details on where he was at. He wasn’t wrong.

  “I’ve uploaded directions to your car. Keep straight for thirteen point six miles at which point you’ll turn left and head for the on-ramp for the I-seventy-five.”

  Wyatt watched fence posts fly by, some ancient and rotting, others with new with wire stretched between them, protecting grassy fields and occasional groups of cows huddled under trees. At one point, a police car came up and tried to pass him on the driver’s side, Frankie hanging out the window with a gun drawn, his face red and angry.

  Wyatt smiled, flipped him the bird, pushed hard on the gas and eased into the center of the two-lane road. The other car pulled back.

  “I’ve got police cars on my ass,” he said to Joe. “Can you disable them remotely?”

  “I’m aware of your situation, but no, their control systems are separate from the grid, I can’t access their controls.”

  “Well, what use are you then?”

  Joe replied, “I’ve given you directions, which was useful.”

  Wyatt sighed, “You’re way too literal, my hacker buddy, don’t stress. I’m on my way.”

  “I will stay on the line, Wyatt.”

  The pursuit continued through the country for another fifteen minutes. At one point, turning a curve at the base of a hill, he skidded off the road briefly and yanked the car back onto the asphalt. Wyatt took a deep breath and steadied himself, taking one hand and then the other off the wheel to wipe the sweat off on his jeans. He watched the other cars speed through the dust cloud he’d put up.

  “Slow,” said Teri.

  Might as well, he thought. He eased down from the ninety he’d been doing and the cars behind him slowed down as well, maintaining the same distance as they had before. Wyatt kept watching for civilization and the entrance to the highway and was surprised when they drove passed a grove of trees and right over the I-seventy-five.

  “Joe, where the hell are we going?”

  “Make a left turn on Radcliffe in one point three miles,” was the reply.

  “You could have warned me.”

  “Do you want updates?”

  “Duh!” said Wyatt.

  “How many?”

  “You know, like a navigation app, you should be able to do that. Let me know a mile before we have to make a turn.”

  In a few seconds, Joe said, “In one mile, turn left on Radcliffe.”

  To himself, he thought, as much as he needed Joe right now, he could learn to hate the annoying little bastard. “And after that?”

  “You’ll proceed left on Haggard.”

  “Keep going?” Wyatt asked.

  “Yes, you keep going,” replied Joe.

  Wyatt gritted his teeth and glanced at Jessica, who was still out cold. Would it be so bad to punch her again, he wondered? Just for a little stress relief? He hadn’t ever punched a girl before and figure he’d never do it again, but she wasn’t really a girl. More like a devil in a girl mask. Nobody would convict him for punching a devil, not in America.

  He considered a quick slap or smack, but a glance in the rear view mirror at Teri told him it would be bad. He could handle his own guilt, but not the judgment of an eleven-year-old. “And after Haggard?” he asked Joe.

  “Turn left on North Broadway and then left onto the highway.”

  “You’re kidding, right? Four lefts?” Wyatt asked.

  “Correct. Wyatt, I note you seem stressed.”

  “You know, good buddy, thanks for noticing. I am having a rough day.”

  “Have you tried meditation or breathing exercises? Mindfulness is shown to reduce stress levels.”

  A few houses appeared now and there was a light ahead. It was green, which meant it would be red once he got to it. About fifty yards out, it turned. “And what’s that?”

  “What?”

  I hate you, thought Wyatt. “Mindfulness.” He slowed to a stop at the light, the three police cars behind him. There was a Toyota van stopped on his right with a middle-aged mom at the wheel. She had a cougar haircut and bright lipstick. She stared at him with wide eyes. Wyatt waved and smiled. She didn’t respond.

  Joe replied, “It’s the practice of being present in the moment and not focusing on the future or the past, simply enjoying where you are.”

  Where do you think I am, what do you think I’m doing? Daydreaming about job I’m going to get? At school? Idiot.

  A loudspeaker broke his reverie. “Wyatt Millar, get out of the car or we will shoot.”

  He ignored them and assumed it was a bluff. It wasn’t, and he jumped at the sound of a gunshot ricocheting off the back of the car. An officer stood beside the passenger door in the first car behind him, his gun out.

  “Joe, I swear I’m very much living in the moment,” he yelled and pressed hard on the gas. He spun left through the intersection, not bothering to wait to see how many bullets the window could absorb. An old guy in a convertible swerved to avoid him, one hand on the wheel, the other on the horn.

  The next road was still two lanes and busier than the country road they’d just left. He weaved in and out of traffic to the sound of the sirens of the following cars. “And you know what, Joe? The moment is not relaxing me.”

  “I can suggest alternate strategies.”

  “Not now, thank you. Focus on getting me onto the Depot.”

  “Once you arrive, you’ll be let in, I’ve already made arrangements.”

  That was expected, the problem was getting to the Depot. He weaved past an orange SUV and almost ran into an oncoming sedan, whose owner did nothing other than hold one hand on the horn as Wyatt pulled the car back into his own lane. Despite the sound of three police cars racing with sirens blaring down the street, not one car pulled over to the side. There were several oncoming, he couldn’t pass, and he ended up stuck behind a pickup truck doing twenty.

  Wyatt rolled down his window, “Move over, you jackass,” he yelled to no effect. Damn it, I may be a criminal on the lam, wanted for murder and kidnapping, but even I know to pull over for emergency vehicles. Assholes. As the traffic in the other direction lessened, he darted out and floored it past the truck, giving the driver the finger as he roared past.

  Two more lefts and many more cars passed, he took the on ramp to the interstate. A sign said twenty was the maximum. He was going sixty. “Joe, what’s next?”

  “Proceed fifty miles on the interstate and then take exit eighty-three.”

  That wouldn’t work. Joe might think he could lead a train of police cars to the entrance to a military base, but his name on the ‘admitted’ list wouldn’t stop the guards at the gate from asking questions. “Is there a large mall near an exit?”

  “Three exits ahead of you, there is a shopping center one mile from the interstate in Lexington.”

  Wyatt pulled into the breakdown lane on the left and sped up, flirting with a hundred miles an hour. He needed to switch cars, but he couldn’t do that with the police behind him. “Joe, we need to get rid of these guys and dump this car. What types of vehicles can you remotely control?”

  “Most modern top of the line vehicles now are computerized,” Joe replied. “I can use their collision avoidance, lane assist and intelligent cruise to control them. I can control trucks as well.”

  “Trucks?”

  “Larger trucks, eighteen wheels and above, have similar systems. It allows for them to travel in chains, saves on gas, and gives their dispatch offices control when needed.”

  Wyatt said, “Save the lesson for another day, that’s perfect. Is there a chain ahead of us?”

  Joe answered, “Three food delivery trucks, company name ‘Salinger’s’, about one mile ahead.”
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br />   Wyatt pulled to the right and rapidly crossed the three lanes of traffic. A Hyundai SUV didn’t see him and ended up spinning out. The last thing Wyatt saw was the shocked face of the driver as he looked up from the cell-phone he’d been texting on. The SUV went over the ditch and rolled twice. Teach him right, thought Wyatt with grim satisfaction as the other car exploded behind them. “Never text and drive,” he said out loud. “It’s very dangerous.”

  Teri clicked once. He checked the mirror to see the burning vehicle and instead was castigated by a disapproving look from his passenger. “Teri,” he started and sighed, knowing what she wanted. “Joe, can you arrange for an ambulance for the driver who just crashed?”

  Two clicks from Teri and “Done,” from Joe.

  “Great, thanks, now, take over the three trucks.”

  There was a brief pause and Joe said, “I have control.”

  “Good. Now, I want you to have them each take one lane, set them at fifty miles an hour, side by side. Can you do that?”

  A few seconds later, Joe said, “Done.”

  Joe might be a dick, but he listened, Wyatt supposed that wasn’t a surprise. Now for the details. “How far until the exit?”

  “Five point two miles.”

  “And how far behind the trucks am I?”

  “A seventh of a mile,” replied Joe.

  “And they’re doing fifty, as I asked?”

  Joe confirmed that they were.

  Wyatt did some quick math. Driving wasn’t his thing, but math was. “So, if I do sixty, I should catch them about a half mile before the exit?”

  Joe answered, “It will be point six five of a mile.”

  “Close enough,” Wyatt replied and eased off on the gas, slowing down so he had room to speed up later.

  Jessica moaned and moved her head, her eyes opening. Great timing, he thought.

  “What,” she said and shook her head. “Ooh, my head hurts,” she said, looked around and got her bearings, “What did you do?”

  “You’re my prisoner now, we’re on the run from your boyfriend and heading towards your other friend, Joe,” he said. “Any questions?”

  “You punched me!” she said. “How could you?”

  “Have you met you? It’s really easy, comes naturally.”

  “I will have you killed for that,” Jessica replied, wrestling with the handcuffs. She turned and spat at him. “I will kill you myself.”

  “There’s a lot of that going around, it seems,” chuckled Wyatt. “Everybody wants to kill me.”

  Jessica stopped trying to get out of her cuffs and sat in sullen silence for the next minutes. The trucks came in view as he rounded a long curve through the outskirts of Lexington. Wyatt glanced in the mirror, the three patrol cars spread out behind him and a chain of other cars followed closely, all exceeding the speed limit. Everybody wanted to see what would happen.

  This, Wyatt thought, could get messy. He looked back at Teri and caught her looking at him. “Don’t worry, I’ll do this carefully.” She nodded and clicked twice.

  “What’s with the little mute?” asked Jessica.

  Wyatt ignored the insult, it wasn’t worth the breath. He prepared himself for what was to come. “Joe, you still have control the trucks, right?”

  “Correct.”

  “Good. Stay on the line,” Wyatt said. They flew past a sign, it was now half a mile to the next exit.

  There were several cars between him and the trucks, which were lined up, three abreast across the road, preventing anyone from passing. The far left lane had a line of cars, likely filled with angry drivers who couldn’t stand being held back from getting to their pointless destinations a few seconds early. “Idiots,” he muttered.

  “What?” asked Jessica. Wyatt smiled and counted off the seconds until he needed to make his move. He braked to slow down. This had to be precise. Five seconds left until he made his move.

  “Don’t ignore me,” she said, her voice petulant. Four seconds.

  “Hold tight everyone,” he said. Three seconds.

  “Why?” asked Jessica. Two seconds.

  He looked in the mirror and got a nod from Teri. He said, “You will be a cool adult, kid.” One second.

  Click, click, Teri said.

  He let out a howl of excitement and spun the wheel hard to the left, speeding past two stragglers and then onto the break-down lane. He overshot and the rear tire skidded in the dirt. Wyatt turned the wheel to the right, evened the car out and pressed all the way down on the gas pedal. The car flew past the others and quickly came even with the truck in the far left lane.

  He looked back and saw that the police cars weren’t behind him yet. “Joe, drop the middle truck back the full length of the truck on the left. Drop the far right truck back an equal length,” he said.

  He sped past the truck. Once he was only feet in front, he whipped the wheel right, bringing the police car across two lanes and then he braked, dropping back until he was just in front of the middle truck.

  He now was even with the left truck but on the inside instead of the outside. The other two trucks were slowing down. When he saw the truck on his right had fallen back, he switched lanes, taking the car into the rightmost lane and again slowed. The trucks on his left shielded them from their pursuers.

  Now in place, he focused on the exit, which was coming up fast. A speed sign said the off-ramp speed limit was thirty. He was going fifty, the same as the trucks. He counted out the seconds and said, “Joe, speed up the trucks to eighty for one mile and then release control.”

  “Done. What’s your plan?”

  Wyatt ignored him as they passed the on-ramp. He wanted to be sure the police wouldn’t be able to turn off, and hoped they wouldn’t even see him exit, with the trucks as his shield.

  At the last possible second, he braked hard and spun the car towards the grass, whipping the wheel left and right as he tried to straighten their path. “Bump!” he yelled as they flew over a small ditch, all four tires leaving the ground.

  He raced across the grass and joined the on-ramp halfway up, spinning the wheel again to the right, one foot on the gas the other hovered over the brake, just in case. The left wheels left the ground as he pulled hard into the turn.

  He looked to the right as his instructor had always taught him. She’d said, look where you want to be, not where you’ve been. As he looked through the right window, he saw Jessica’s face twist in terror as she screamed, both hands gripping the door handle in fear for her life. The car skidded to the left as he pulled it right, the wheels squealing.

  He let off the brake and pressed the gas and the car kicked forward, all four tires again on the ground. They came out of the corner and shot down the road and he was back in control of the vehicle. He checked the mirror, there were no longer police cars behind him. With luck, it’d be a minute before they figured out where he was. Perhaps two minutes even.

  The speedometer said forty miles an hour when Wyatt saw a red light only twenty yards ahead. He slammed on the brakes and the car shook and skidded side to side as he pulled it to a full stop only a foot from a mini-van, its back window emblazoned with six little stick figures and one stick-dog.

  Wyatt realized he’d been holding his breath the entire time and let it all out in one long ‘whoop’! He looked in the mirror again and saw no pursuit. Nobody. He felt like crying, screaming, yelling with joy. “Stuff it, Jennifer!” he cried out.

  His passenger sniffed, “My name is Jessica, and you’re insane.”

  “I wasn’t talking to you, that’s for my driving instructor. And yes I am insane, don’t you forget it. But while I’m at it, you can stuff it too.”

  He turned off the sirens, the light turned green, and they pulled through, following the family van. “Should I pull them over, for fun?” he asked.

  Teri clicked once and made a chuckling sound.

  “Joe, find me a car in the mall parking lot. Far from the entrance, away from cameras. It’s gotta be one you ca
n remotely access and start up.”

  The mall was visible now, dominating the surrounding landscape. Joe said, “Upper level, section B-4.”

  “Put its lights on so I can find it,” Wyatt said, and followed signs and the road through the parking lot, and stopped next to a BMW whose lights were flashing. “The Beemer?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Pop the trunk, open the doors and start the car,” Wyatt said, got out of the police car, and grabbed the phone as he left. He helped Teri out of the back and, offered her the front passenger seat and then returned to get Jessica.

  “You’re going in the trunk.”

  “The hell I am,” she said as she got out of the cruiser.

  “You are. How you do it is the only choice you have.”

  “Wy-Wy,” she cooed. “Please, baby. We can work this out.”

  “You’re right. I can knock you out again. That’d work out well for me.”

  “I’ll scream. I’ll say I’m being kidnapped.”

  “Well, you are, so it’d be the first true thing I’ll have ever heard you say. But you’ll still end up in the trunk. I can’t drive through a military checkpoint with a handcuffed and bleeding loudmouth in the front seat.”

  “I won’t.”

  He stared at her, his expression making it clear that it wasn’t a choice and that he wouldn’t bend.

  Jessica deflated, her shoulders fell, and she followed him to the back of the BMW. He helped her into the trunk, took the extra handcuffs and tied her hands to her feet. “I’ll try to make it a smooth ride,” he said. He noticed a small tool kit which he grabbed as he shut the trunk. That might be useful, he thought.

  He got in the front of the car and put it in gear, his plan now to have a slow and safe trip to the base, with perhaps the occasional detour to hit every single speed bump or pothole he could find.

  “Ready, Teri?” he asked.

  Click, click, she replied.

  Chapter 25

  The rest of the drive passed in silence, only interrupted on occasion by Joe as he gave directions. Jessica shouted twice at the start of the ride but went quiet as well, either from a blow to the head at one of the harder bumps he’d deliberately hit or a decision that screaming wouldn’t be of any use. Wyatt used the drive to consider what he intended to do.