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

by Blou Bryant

  The store was almost fully automated with only one bored looking clerk in attendance, which was also a blessing, he thought as he pulled a pair of shoes over his muddy socks. Once he had a couple shirts that weren’t too tight, new pants that weren’t too bold and socks to wear under his new shoes, he turned the tables on the girls. He was less fun, from their perspective, as he nixed anything that was too flashy or revealing. “I don’t want people paying attention to you,” he said when they protested. “Keep arguing and we’ll try Wal-Mart.” The twins pouted, but all three chose items that were both less flattering and less obvious.

  Under the watchful eye of the clerk, they scanned all their items at the cash. The total was a lot higher than Wyatt expected, but it wasn’t his credit card or his money. Before he could pull out the card, the automated reader said, “Customer not recognized, stand closer, please.”

  Wyatt looked around, this was new to him. The clerk waved at him, “Move closer to the counter so the system can authorize your payment.”

  “With my face?” he asked the girls.

  Hannah whispered, “Three years is a long time, shut in. This is how most payment is handled now, your face is recognized when you enter the store and payment is automatic.”

  He stood closer but the machine said the same thing. “I’m sorry, you are not recognized. Your business is valuable to us. Would you like to open an account?”

  The clerk made a huffing sound. “Use the scanner,” she said, pointing down.

  Wyatt put his face down on the counter.

  “What are…” the clerk said as Hannah pulled Wyatt up by the back of his shirt. “Your hand, put your hand on the counter for authorization.”

  “What if I’m not in the system?”

  “What, are you Canadian or something?” she asked, as if they’d just came in from the tundra. His face reddened in embarrassment and frustration. He had a card after all.

  “Yes, we’re from out of town. I have a card,” he said.

  She stared at him blankly. “You want to open an account?”

  “No,” Wyatt said, getting angry, and pulled the card out of his pocket. “I want to use this,” he said, with extra snark and gestured, “to pay for those.”

  The clerk continued to stare. He stared back.

  “Fine,” she said, “I think we have an old machine here somewhere.”

  Wyatt saw it at the side of the counter. “Right there, it’s right there,” he said, happy to recognize one piece of technology. He held his breath as he entered the PIN that Rocky had given him. When it came back approved, he felt like he’d won the lottery.

  “Thanks,” he said and helped the twins and Hannah bag their items. The clerk focused on her phone and didn’t reply.

  Once out of the mall—happily out of the mall—he texted for a cab. “We need a place to change, computer access and a base of operations. We’re going hunting,” he said to the group.

  A minute later, a beep on his phone alerted them to the cab’s arrival. It was an electric blue Corolla, registered to ‘Mary Evens’ according to the app information. Driverless, it toured the city, picking up rides when she wasn’t using it. Wyatt had seen lots of commercials for the service and the self-driving cars from his basement lockdowns over the past three years.

  With some regret, he realized that only four years after he’d learned to drive, he’d never have to again. “Take us to a hotel near Rogers Avenue,” Wyatt said. He planned to get changed and establish a base of operations in the west end.

  “Payment not recognized,” said the car.

  “I didn’t pay yet,” he replied.

  Ari patted him gently on the knee and looked at him like he was Rip Van Winkle. “Your face wasn’t recognized. Hold your card up,” she said, and he did.

  “Prepayment approved,” said the car. “Which Hotel would you like? I recommend our partner, the Western Group on Rideau Road.” One of the car windows shimmered and displayed a list of hotels.

  Hannah flipped through them when Ira said, “You can’t use your credit at any of those, you know.”

  “Why not?” asked Wyatt. How could the world have changed so much in only three years?

  “Your face needs to be recognized. If you’re not in the database, you need government ID and to be logged in the system. And it’s gotta be tied to your credit. You can’t just scan a card at a hotel, not since the anti-terrorism laws made it mandatory to be recognizable.”

  Ari said, “We can use…”

  “… our account.”

  “Your real names?” he asked, surprised. He didn’t think that Ari and Ira were their real names, so he was interested to find out what they were. As far as he knew, that was a secret between them, Sandra and Rocky.

  “Um,” said Ira. “This conversation…”

  “… would be easier if you had our skills.”

  He didn’t understand what they meant at first and realized they were talking about their telepathy. “You mean…” Wyatt started when Ari punched him in the leg. “Ouch,” he said, but shut up.

  “You know the best part of cars like this?” she asked, raising both eyebrows.

  He shook his head.

  “They’re connected to the system.”

  “Helps keep us secure and safe when we’re using them.”

  “So?” he asked, feeling like he was missing something.

  Ira let out a long sigh, “And they’re always listening, so they can respond to our needs. Isn’t that great?”

  Ah, now it sunk in. Keep his mouth shut.

  “Anyhow, yes, we use our real names, Aurora…”

  “… and Ariel.”

  Hannah put a hand up to him—be quiet—and struggled for a moment to find the right words. “We do need to get changed.”

  “She’s right, hotels won’t work,” said Wyatt. “Any other options?”

  Ira and Ari looked at each other for a moment while some unspoken communication passing between them. “Cab, take us to Signal Road and Pulaski,” Ira said.

  “Confirmed. Enjoy your ride and thank you for choosing Mary Evens.”

  Wyatt gave the two a questioning look but didn’t ask anything. He’d have to wait until they arrived to find out what they’d decided. This brave new world, he thought, isn’t one I’m going to enjoy.

  Chapter 5

  Thirty minutes later the car left busier parts of the city and traveled through an old industrial area. A large sign warned them that they were entering a ‘Reclamation Zone.’ Several abandoned blocks of houses later, the group arrived at the entrance to a public park and were let out with a pleasant and impersonal, “Thank you for your business.” None of them replied, the car wasn’t deserving of the courtesy.

  Wyatt stepped out and disdainfully surveyed the garbage filled entrance to what looked like a run-down campground. “Where have you brought us?”

  Ira’s dreadlocks bounced as she ran ahead of the rest of the group. Ari put a hand up to stop the others from following and said, “Wait here, she’s getting us wristbands for access.”

  “We need wristbands? This isn’t Disney,” Wyatt replied.

  “They show you’ve been to a Hand-Up Center and are in the system. Can’t be homeless without them.”

  “But,” said Wyatt, “we’re not homeless,” with an eye to the men and women milling around the park. He wasn’t one of them.

  Ari raised an eyebrow. “We’re not? Where are you sleeping tonight?”

  Wyatt grimaced.

  Ari took his silence as agreement. “Then wear it. The police will stop us if we’re in the park without them.”

  Ira returned with three yellow bands, one already around her own wrist. “Put em on,” she said.

  While he didn’t like being marked like that, it was the twins plan and he had to play along. With a shrug he slipped one over his wrist as if he was in a hospital ward or at a concert. Let’s get this over with, he thought, and said, “Why are we here?”

  Ira said, “We know
a guy who can help us out,” and the twins danced ahead of them. Wyatt motioned to Hannah and followed them. He helped her over the fallen entrance sign, which welcomed them to Reagan Park. The space was the size of a couple of football fields, surrounded by large, broken down, burnt out and abandoned homes on tree-lined streets.

  Despite his first impression, the four fit in, their clothing dirty and torn in places, their faces worn and tired. The only difference from the inhabitants of the park was that the clothing in the bags they carried was new and clean, but nobody knew that to look at them. “This was once a nice neighborhood,” Wyatt said. “I mean, look at those homes,” he pointed to one, “they’re at least double my parents place.”

  Hannah simply nodded, eyeing the people milling around the park with caution, traces of disgust in her expression. She leaned in and whispered, “Why do they live like this?”

  “They’re poor?”

  She pointed to the house he’d mentioned. “Why not move them in there? Or any of the other empty ones?”

  Wyatt grunted, “Not their homes, I guess. Owners don’t want people messing them up.”

  “They look quite messed up already.”

  Wyatt was frustrated, he didn’t know the answer. “I don’t know, why don’t you find the owners and ask them. Your parents have money, ask them to buy a couple homes and let these people move in,” he said, realizing it was a low blow as the words came out of his mouth.

  She hadn’t talked to her parents in three years, ever since her mother told her to turn herself into the police for a crime she didn’t commit. Even if they found out she was alive, they’d disown her if they hadn’t already. Hannah didn’t reply and Wyatt didn’t need to look at her to know he’d disappointed her yet again.

  He was mercifully rescued from the conversation when half-way through the park the twins stopped at a large brown tent. “Hey, Shazam,” they yelled.

  “Is it party time already?” came from the tent.

  “It’s always…” said Ira.

  “… party time,” finished Ari.

  A man in a wheelchair rolled out of the tent, a huge grin on his face. “Hug me!”

  The twins did, broad smiles on their faces. Shazam was a handsome man, perhaps in his early twenties, with a chiseled jaw and hair that was too perfectly tousled to be anything but deliberate. He wore combat pants over withered legs and a bright blouse that set off dark green eyes.

  Ira sat on his lap while Ari wheeled him over to Wyatt and Hannah. “You musta remembered how I like to party, you brought another hottie and some beefcake. It’s way early still to go out.”

  “No party tonight,” said Ira, patting him on the chest.

  Ari added, “We need a place to crash.”

  With a backward shake of his head, he said, “Me casa, su casa. Come on in.”

  “No, we can’t, we…”

  Wyatt interrupted Ira. “We need something more… formal. Like, showers and our own rooms.”

  “Well, ain’t you fancy, Nancy. If you got credit, get a hotel. If I had a room, you think I’d live out here?”

  Wyatt pulled a stack of twenties out of his jacket, knowing that the rest of the money was stashed in his sneakers with the credit cards. “I got money,” he said.

  Shazam’s eyes went wide. “Put that away, idiot,” he said, looking around them. “Do you want to get us killed? Who carries that much paper anymore?”

  Wyatt hastily returned the money to his jacket. They were surrounded by several hundred people who had nothing. “Right. Can you get us a place to stay?”

  “You don’t got ID, I guess, or you want to stay off grid?” He tugged on Ira’s dreadlocks. “You guys rob someone? That’s a lot of paper. Ya, I know people, but most of them, you can’t trust.”

  “Off-grid, yes,” said Wyatt.

  Shazam thought for a moment and pulled out a cell phone. “Dial Joshua,” he said, and the phone did. “J, can you put up friends of mine for a couple nights? They’ve got paper.” He listened for a moment and asked Wyatt, “Are you guys in trouble?”

  Wyatt didn’t reply, not sure what to say. He didn’t know the guy and wasn’t ready to trust him, no matter how much Ira and Ari liked him.

  “Fine, don’t answer,” Shazam said and turned back to the phone. “Probably in some, but I trust em, and you can use the cash.” He listened and said, “Great, thanks. Be there soon.”

  “I got a place, follow me,” he said and wheeled his way through the park with Ira and Ari on either side, while Hannah and Wyatt followed. Clothing was draped over park benches and tree branches while people huddled together in small groups. Garbage bins overflowed like dark waterfalls with debris covering the surrounding ground.

  As they exited the park, Ira took back the wristbands and placed them under a bench for the next visitors.

  “Where are we going?” asked Wyatt.

  “Going to the local HUC, the guy who runs it is a pal, good guy.”

  “Huck?”

  “Hand-Up Center,” said Shazam, with a sideways glance at Wyatt. “You kidding, you don’t know what a HUC is? Who is this guy?” he asked Ira. “I mean, if he’s your friend, he’s mine, no insult intended, right?”

  Wyatt shook his head. “No insult taken, I’ve lived under a rock for a few years. So, what’s a HUC?”

  “It’s where people like me get their benefits.”

  “People like you?”

  “You know, homeless or jobless or both. Can’t just get a cheque no more, government said everybody gotta do it in person, be tracked, tested. Not that it matters.”

  “Testing?”

  “For stuff… drugs, you know. But it’s not a problem, someone’s always willing to piss for you, right girls?”

  Ari slapped him, “Hush,” she said, blushing.

  Wyatt raised an eyebrow at Ira, who was peeking at him over her shoulder. She looked away, blushing like her sister. Hannah gave him a tap on the elbow and he leaned into her to whisper, “What? I didn’t say nothin.”

  Hannah said, “Keep walking.” Something was wrong, he stopped despite her. “Oh, for…” she said.

  Ari and Ira looked back and simultaneously stopped walking and turned around, their faces dead serious. Both bent slightly, ready for action. Ira put a hand under her shirt to where she kept her throwing circles.

  Wyatt turned, a hand up to protect himself from whatever the twins had seen. A group of six rough figures was behind them, three with guns drawn. The leader was the biggest of the lot, a woman who was easily a couple of inches taller than he was.

  “Hi there,” she said.

  “Trix,” said Shazam.

  “Hey dirtball, where you rollin to?” she said.

  “We got nothing,” he said in reply.

  “Don’t lie, honey.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Wyatt saw Ari slip a hand behind her back. He put his arms out. “No violence,” he said to his friends with a glance from side to side to make sure he was understood. They’d been lucky the night before, nobody’d been shot. He wasn’t going to take a chance on someone getting hurt if he didn’t need to.

  “Hi Trix, I’m Roger,” he said.

  “Sure you are,” she replied. “No violence, I like that, smart guy. You know what I want?”

  “You saw me flash a wad of cash back in the park.”

  “Yup, I did.”

  “And you want it,” he said.

  “Bingo. Throw it over. Slow, real slow. And the bags, too.”

  Wyatt stared at her without immediately responding. He had most of the money and all the cards stuffed into a shoe, and could afford to give her the couple hundred paper dollars he had in his pocket.

  Trix tilted her head to the side and grinned. “What’ you thinking now, smart guy?”

  Wyatt considered her. She was attractive for a giant. Her eyes were a deep brown, set off by heavy purple eyeliner. A large nose ring and matching earrings gave extra character to a face that already had a lot. He wondered..
.and let the thought go and instead said, “I’m thinking I want to keep some of my money and the rest of our clothes.”

  “But we’d have to shoot you. Don’t want that, now?” she said and stepped forward, still smiling despite the threat. “We’ve got guns, are you really trying to negotiate?”

  Hannah moved forward, putting herself between the two, she was protective of him. “We’re not negotiating. You can leave though, and we won’t hurt you, how’s that sound?”

  “Oh, you’re cute. Is he yours?”

  “Yes,” said Hannah. “Hands off.”

  Wyatt took Hannah by the arm, stopping her from laying hands on the other woman. Her ability to heal had an evil side; she could harm others through a simple touch. “Don’t,” he said. “We’re not fighting this out, does everybody understand?”

  Hannah glared at him as he gently moved her to the side, her face set and grim. She was ready for a fight, but she didn’t resist.

  Wyatt got a nod of agreement from Ira and then Ari, both of whom relaxed, seeing him take charge. “Yes, we’re negotiating,” he said to the giantess.

  “But, handsome, I’ve got the guns,” she said with a gesture at the men who accompanied her.

  “I see that,” he said and pulled the money he’d flashed before out of his jacket. “And I suppose you could shoot us and take it and the bags of old clothing.”

  “I will, you mean?”

  “No, you won’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’ve got,” he counted it out, “four hundred dollars. And you can have two hundred, without violence.”

  Trix appeared to be enjoying herself. She glanced around, it was just the two groups, nobody else was watching. The old house they were standing in front of was abandoned, its windows boarded over, the porch half torn down with supports extending out front, holding up the second-floor balcony.

  “Well, we could take you in there,” she said, with a nod to the house, “and shoot you. That way we get it all.”