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

by Blou Bryant

  He leaned in, their faces inches apart. “And I’m happy I could save them, but what about the people who’ve died, who Jessica killed?”

  “That’s on her, not on you. Are you really going to get him to remove the virus?”

  “Not remove, kill it, like any virus.”

  She shook her head. “You’ve never liked it, I know, but this is selfish. Where would we be? We would be dead without what you’ve done with that virus.”

  “Truth,” said Ari, tapping Ira on the knee with a fist in agreement. “You’ve done good, boss.”

  “I’m not your boss.”

  “Sure you are, you’re the boss of everyone here. You just act like you don’t wanna be.”

  The two were staring intently at him, and he sat back, leaning away from their intensity. “You don’t understand.”

  Ira chuckled darkly at that. “Oh, we understand, you’ve never been shy about how you felt.”

  “Buff and bored,” he muttered.

  “What?”

  “Emm said I want to be buff and bored.”

  “She’s smart, that one…” said Ira, leaning in closer.

  “It’s true, you like to imagine…” continued Ari.

  Ira finished the thought, “… imagine that you’re a simple man. But you’re not.”

  The compliment made him uncomfortable. Or perhaps it was the truth of the compliment. “It’s just the virus.”

  “No, it’s you. You’ve always been special, even before we knew you, I bet, but you didn’t know it. The virus has forced you to be more.”

  That made little sense, or if it did, he wasn’t interested in it. Three years he’d spent in church basements, abandoned paint factories and uncounted other hideaways, all because of the virus. Sure, he’d healed people, but a lot of them were changed in ways they didn’t like, understand, and hadn’t asked for. And the healing came with a price, pursued by Jessica and Joe. Even if he defeated them—and that didn’t look likely—there would be someone else who’d want to farm him for his blood. And everyone around him would continue to be at risk.

  He grunted and looked away from the girls, around the room. “Is Rocky here?”

  Ari pointed to the back. “He’s in the second bedroom. He’s just like you, good things don’t make him happy.”

  “Men, always looking for the dark side,” Ira complained as Wyatt got up and walked away.

  ***

  Rocky was packing a bag as Wyatt arrived. Rather than ask, he closed the door behind him and sat next to the bag.

  “Leavin’,” said the big man, without waiting to be asked.

  “Got that from the bag.”

  “Can’t leave them to face Jessica alone.”

  Wyatt sighed.

  “You don’t have to come. You shouldn’t come.”

  “Why not?”

  “Esaf’s here, girls told me.”

  “In the flesh, and alive.”

  Rocky zipped the bag up, he had little to pack. “Crazy. Can he help you?”

  “He says he can, and… yes, if anyone can figure this out, it’s him. You’re not going to see him?”

  “We weren’t close. And I got things to do.”

  “Have you heard from them?”

  Rocky pulled a phone out of his back pocket and threw it on the bed. “Police control the Zone now, and they got Watchers with them. Sandra and Trix are doing what they can to keep things together.”

  Wyatt glanced at the phone. “A Patterson or Seymour special?” he asked.

  “Part of their care package. I’ve left you most of it. The bag is under the bed.”

  “The girls aren’t under arrest or anything? No danger right now?”

  “I talked with Sandra and she said the cops are playing it cool, no arrests, just keepin’ law and order, or that’s what they say. Lookin’ under every bed, searching every house.”

  “It’s me they want.”

  “Seems like. You and anyone you’ve altered. Marylyn’s gone missing. A couple others too.”

  That hurt. The old lady had saved him twice, and, that aside, was a good person. He didn’t ask who the others were.

  Rocky extended a hand. “Rainbow told me I could take a motorcycle. Wanna get back as fast as I can.” Sandra was his girlfriend; the Dogs were his family.

  Wyatt understood completely and didn’t bother trying to talk him out of it. They shook hands and Rocky strode out of the room, and back to the Zone, to the battle that Wyatt had abandoned.

  He left the door closed and didn’t join the party. Pulling the gauze out of his pocket, he wrapped up his bleeding palm and lay down on the bed. The rooms were soundproof, and it didn’t take long to fall asleep.

  ***

  Teri woke him, and from the wall display of dusk over a forest, he assumed he’d slept most of the day. That was okay. He grunted and rolled over. She left.

  ***

  The next time he woke, the room was almost completely black. When he sat up, the wall display lit up, the moon now poked over dark trees. Wyatt tried to fall back asleep, but his mind wouldn’t let him. His friends were left behind and he hid here, his only goal to make himself normal. From there, what was the plan? To hide out in a refuge from the world and play video games all by himself? He tried to force himself back to sleep, but the more he tried, the more his mind raced.

  ***

  After a half hour of fighting with himself, he slapped at the bed. “Damn it, let me sleep.” There was no use. He’d slept the day away and wasn’t tired any longer.

  His only plan was to wait for morning, to see Esaf and find out if a cure was possible. Guilt alternated with trepidation. His life might have sucked, but at least it was his life, at least he had goals. The thought of the next day, and the day after, and the day after that, locked away, suddenly wasn’t as appealing. “No,” he said to the dark room. “The virus isn’t me. Running and hiding isn’t a life.”

  “Esaf’s probably awake. He doesn’t sleep,” he said.

  “So? Let him do his job. You can live one more night with the virus.”

  “And then what, be normal?”

  He tossed around on the bed, angry at himself, angry at his life and the choices he had, his mind filled with contradictory thoughts. Was he flush, overheated? He put a hand to his head. It was hot, perhaps it was the virus acting up. He sighed and got up.

  Chapter 25

  Wyatt walked the quiet halls. Arriving at the blue hall, he was surprised to find two Prats in their black uniforms standing guard. Turning away, he instead took an escalator down to the main hall. From time to time, he checked the phone for bars, but there wasn’t any access.

  He passed an older couple, huddled together, heads close, hands touching. Neither more than glanced up, and he hurried by, not wanting to intrude.

  Taking stairs back up to the second level, he continued to argue with himself. Truth be told, for all that he avoided problems, he was happiest when he had them.

  Standing at the top of stairs, overlooking the atrium, he checked the phone again. Still no bars. That made little sense. There were displays throughout the building, none appearing wired in any way. They got their feed somehow.

  Lifting himself up on the railing, he considered the phone. Rocky had connected, and if that luddite could, there had to be a way. Still no bars, and nothing else on the display. He flicked up and a thumbprint reader appeared. Of course, Seymour wouldn’t trust just anyone. Wyatt pressed his thumb to it and the screen unlocked. There was only one choice on the next screen, an app with a big heart over it.

  With a shrug, he tapped it and it opened to a picture of a beautiful woman. He swiped left. Next was a handsome older man. Wyatt swiped left again. This continued, with each person even more attractive than the last. Post-apocalyptic dating, awesome. I wonder if zombies get their own version. A few more and Seymour’s picture appeared.

  With a laugh, Wyatt swiped right. On the top, three bars appeared, and he clicked on the ‘contact’ link.
The image shimmered once, twice, and then a third time. Not in a rush, Wyatt waited. After eleven shimmers, the image was replaced with a bleary-eyed, shirtless Seymour lit by only the light of his own phone.

  “What? Oh. What time is it?” Seymour asked, his free hand wiping sleep from his eyes.

  “No clue. Early moon time.”

  “Hrm?”

  “Inside joke. Nice trick, the whole phone thing. Is that your dating app?”

  “Something like it. So, um…” he replied. The image on the phone jerked. Seymour had gotten up and was using the phone as a light. The phone scanned the dark room as he walked to a door and flicked on a light.

  Wyatt laughed out loud when Seymour swung the phone back up to his face.

  “What?”

  “If you’re going to swing that phone around, put on pants. At least wear underwear.”

  Seymour turned red. “Oh,” he said, and the phone was quickly put down.

  Wyatt stared at the screen which now had a perfect view of a popcorn ceiling centered by an ornate chandelier. “You’ve got a chandelier in your bedroom?”

  The phone was quickly picked up again, the camera returning to Seymour’s cherubic face. “When you’ve got as much money as I have….”

  “And as little taste?” asked Wyatt.

  “Psh, nobody tells rich people their taste sucks. Hey, and given how much money I put out for your vacation, you might wanna consider less lip.”

  “True, so, how’s it going? You’re back home?”

  “The Zone is locked down. I’m more use here.”

  And more comfortable… and safe. “Have you uploaded the viruses?”

  Seymour walked through the bedroom and down a hallway. “It’s not a virus anymore, but yes, we’ve uploaded it. Your last mission was a success.” He was in a kitchen now, pouring a glass of milk.

  Wyatt was discombobulated at the rapid tour of the house from the perspective of Seymour’s hand. “And, is it working?”

  “I have no idea. Like I said, it’s not a virus anymore, Emm’s idea was to give it the tools to attack Jessica, and give it the freedom to choose, and let it evolve. It’s not hard coded, it’s flexible and will evolve just like the AIs themselves do.”

  “So…” said Wyatt, not understanding, and not feeling this was useful in the slightest. “What does this mean for us? Are we in, can we shut her down?”

  Seymour poured a dark liquid into his milk and then took a long drink. “I don’t know. This was Emm’s idea. We’re in… but not completely. I’m probing to see if we got access, but so far, we don’t.”

  “So, it failed?”

  “No, it just hasn’t worked yet. These things evolve on their own, that’s the difference between AIs and normal programs. We’ve uploaded the code and now we need to let it evolve and integrate into their core programming.”

  Wyatt tapped his feet rhythmically against the glass barrier of the railing. “I don’t know what to do now…” he said, but remembered that in a day or less, he might be cured of his sickness. If that worked, Jessica would no longer be after them. If that worked, they’d no longer need to go after her.

  “What if we didn’t need this anymore? Could we delete the code?” If they no longer had to fight back, Seymour would not only be wasting his time, he’d be putting himself in danger.

  Seymour put his glass down. “Why would you do that? We’re so close.”

  “I’m just asking,” said Wyatt, abashed, but not abandoning the line of thought.

  “Well, no. You’re not understanding.”

  Frustrated, Wyatt said, “So, enlighten me.”

  “Don’t be angry. Emm’s program…. It’s going to evolve. Now that we’ve put it in a few of the AIs, it’ll grow on its own, mutate and become something different. They’re not static, these things. We created them, but that doesn’t mean they control them.”

  “So, we don’t have to use it.”

  Seymour stared back at him from the little phone. “What’s up with you?”

  Wyatt leaned back on the rail and looked down to the main floor. I’m sick? I’m about to get rid of the only thing that makes me special? I want out of the fight? He didn’t quite know what to say, so he didn’t answer.

  “No, we don’t have to use it, but I’m not one hundred percent sure it’s our choice anymore. Emm wrote the code, she’s brilliant, smarter even than I am, and she will be the one who has to activate it. Her connection to networks and the machines is something I don’t even fully understand. It will be up to her… and perhaps to the machines themselves. How’s she doin’?”

  “Emm? Fine, I guess.”

  “And the resort?”

  Wyatt laughed. “Resort?”

  “Hell ya, that place costs more than a private island. It’s supposed to be quite something.”

  “It’s something, for sure. A bit weird, a closed society… it gets strange when you lock a bunch of people together like this.”

  “Do you think you’ll be able to come back soon?”

  Wyatt didn’t quite have an honest answer for that. “Dunno. We’ll see how this goes.” And if it goes well, he thought, I won’t need to be back. After a few more pleasantries, the two disconnected and Wyatt wandered back to his room to await the fake dawn and his appointment with Esaf.

  Chapter 26

  He wandered the halls for a while before returning to his apartment, hoping that someone else—anyone—would be up and willing to chat. Nobody was. After clunking around for a time, but not waking anyone, he returned to his room and sprawled across the bed. He willed himself to sleep, and when that didn’t work, to stop thinking. That didn’t work either.

  He was torn, not sure if he’d be able to go through with the change—even if Esaf could effect it. Three years before, he did not understand what he would be as an adult. He’d been an okay athlete, and likely could have competed, but he’d been good enough and smart enough to know he’d likely never be a superstar. University was on plan, of course it was, that’s what you did. And then a job, some sort of job, if he could find one.

  Everything was upended by Jessica and Joe, all because of genetic markers that said he’d be immune to a special virus that allowed the genome to edit itself. It was the one thing that had made him special, different from the mass of humanity. And now he would have that one thing removed from him. But he wasn’t going to be an athlete now—officially, he was dead, and he was four years out of school, not likely to return. Without university, there’d be no nice middle-class job, not that one had been likely, anyway. He wasn’t that smart, lucky, or connected.

  Despite the doubts, and despite the worries, he still leaned towards making the change. The ability to heal others, despite his complaints, wasn’t awful. He worried when he did it, and dreaded the outcome, not knowing how he’d change someone, not sure if it’d be good or bad. Still, it was mostly good. Blowing up a bulldozer… that’s something he’d thought about for days, and he was sure he could get used to it. It was like a superpower, and who didn’t want a superpower? That’d be okay, but the virus in him didn’t work like that. It made him sick. It changed, evolved, and he didn’t know where it was going. Powers? Okay! Something inside him changing him, making him sick? Not so much.

  The sun replaced the moon on the monitor, first forewarned by a dull orange on the horizon, eventually coming fully into view, bathing the forest in light. Absentmindedly watching it appear, huge at first, and then shrinking as it rose over the horizon, he wondered if it was a true live feed or a recording. He preferred the former and liked to think he was connected to another, simpler, place in the world.

  He swiped the phone to check the time, but it displayed bars and nothing more. Even after his finger activated it, there was only the single app. Seymour, or Patterson, whoever designed the app, hadn’t figured a clock was necessary. Wyatt considered the position of the sun on the monitor, but he didn’t know where in the world the image was from, and didn’t know when it was taken. And
even if I did, I can’t tell the time from the sun. I’m not ranger Joe, for crying out loud, he reprimanded himself.

  He got out of bed, checked the kitchen and finally found a clock on the microwave. Seven-thirty. Perhaps it was time to wake Teri up for their appointment. He tiptoed down the hall and listened at both other doors. Which one was she in? He coughed twice and rustled around. Still no sounds inside. She could read minds—sort of—so he intently thought of her, and her waking up. Still no sounds.

  Walking back to the living room, he was startled out of his thoughts by a rap on the door. Opening it, he was surprised to see two Prats.

  “The doctor wants you to come now. Alone,” said the taller of the two.

  “My friend… sister… was supposed to come as well.”

  “Just you.”

  Wyatt stood still, eyes locked with the guard. With a brief glance back down the hall, he agreed and joined them in the hall. “Why did he send you?”

  The Prats didn’t respond and turned with military precision and walked away, expecting him to follow. His wish for a cure overrode his dislike for the unexpected, and he followed.

  “You don’t talk much,” he said, as they entered the main hall. Neither answered.

  “Not allowed to talk? Not able?”

  Both ignored him.

  “How do I get a job with you? Is there a form I can fill out, a website?”

  “Shut up,” said the second.

  “Is that one of the Palna rules, no talking when in the presence of the help?”

  The second guard laughed. “You’re looking for a punch in the mouth, aren’t you? Will you shut up if you have a few less teeth?”

  Wyatt followed them, in silence, as they retraced his steps from the previous night. Not because he feared them, but because he was confused by their presence and their attitude. It wasn’t anything like the girls he’d met the day before; there was no deference. He remembered what Rainbow had said about the founding of Palna. The guards had revolted and now leased space. Clearly, they thought themselves in charge. And likely, they were.