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

by Blou Bryant

  “Put them on,” she said to Wyatt.

  “Nope.” He shook his head.

  Raising one hand and a single eyebrow, she dared him to resist.

  “Shock me all you want, I’m not wearing his dirty underwear.” Stupid, perhaps, but in no world would he let those touch a single part of his body. He went so far as to step away from 42, closer to Jessica, so the outstretched hand and dirty briefs wouldn’t be as close.

  “You’re not wearing those…” she said, pointing at his tight pink women’s briefs.

  “Whatever. I’m not wearing dirty underwear. At least these were clean.” They had been clean, right? The guard had said he’d got them from the dresser.

  “My men don’t wear pink. Take them off.”

  Wyatt glanced around the room. Six guards, one AI on a monitor, and Jessica. He leaned over and pulled down the underwear. Embarrassment was better than being shocked. Holding up the woman’s panties, he asked, “Would you like them?”

  Jessica smiled and appeared to think about it, one finger twirling her hair, almost absentmindedly. With her other hand, she traced a line down her hip. “I don’t like panty lines. Give them to him,” she said, pointing at 42.

  Wyatt threw them over and, without hesitation or instruction, the big man pulled them up.

  “Now, get dressed,” she said. “Although…” she continued, looking Wyatt up and down.

  Not waiting for her to change her mind, he took the pants from the ground and pulled them up. Used, yes. Disgusting to let them touch his body, yes. At least they weren’t underwear. He felt as if bugs were crawling up his legs, up his backside, and tried to remain calm. It’s not underwear, and, if he was going to escape, he should be clothed to do it.

  As he reached over to continue dressing, she put one heel on the shirt and shook her head. They locked eyes for a moment, and again he conceded, and instead picked up and pulled on the boots. They were a bit big, but fit well enough. Knowing the answer, he still had to ask, “Can I have the shirt?”

  Jessica smiled. “Not yet,” she said, placing two fingers at the top of his collar bone. Slowly—too slowly—she traced a line down his chest, then belly, ending at the top of his pants. “I like you like this. So, are you enjoying my new home?”

  “Yours?” Wyatt asked, breathing a sigh of relief as her hand left his belly.

  “Oh, yes, I bought it two years ago. It seemed like a prudent investment. Joe feels that society is on the verge of something. People are unhappy, ready to rise up, something like that.”

  “Are you surprised?”

  “Their lives seems fine to me,” she said, but shrugged. “But Joe’s good at this prediction thing, so why not? I ended up making money off it once the original owners were removed. People like your friend Seymour were more than ready to pay up.”

  “You don’t need to tell him this,” Joe interjected. “It’s pointless.”

  “Oh, everything’s pointless to you, hush,” she replied.

  “The more you tell him, the more who know, the greater the risk.”

  “What risk?” she asked, petulant. “Stop being a downer. You’d never have me say or do anything that doesn’t fit your stupid algorithms.”

  “The risk…”

  She flicked two fingers and Joe stopped talking. “Computers are boring, don’t you agree, Wy-Wy? Do you think you’re a risk?”

  Wyatt was cautious, not sure what her game was, but decided to play along. He wanted to know what she was doing and why. Sure, he’d find a way to escape. And knowledge was power. “No, of course not.”

  Jessica giggled at his obvious lie. “Oh, of course you do. Because you think you’re going to escape. Or perhaps you’re planning to fight back, to somehow defeat me and my men?”

  Might as well be honest. “Something like that.”

  Walking to the couch, she sat down, smoothed out her dress and leaned back. “Water?” she said and two guards ran to the kitchen. “Do you like my shoes?” she asked, wiggling her feet.

  Wyatt shrugged, not willing to give her the satisfaction. Truth be told, they looked incredibly uncomfortable.

  “Twenty-thousand dollars for these. Can you believe that?”

  “What a waste,” said Wyatt, momentarily forgetting to agree with her.

  “Of course, that’s what you’d think. You’ve always thought small. That’s why you are trapped here. It’s all because I wanted you here.”

  With effort, Wyatt kept the surprise he felt off his face. He raised an eyebrow, inviting her to explain.

  “I kept trying to catch you. And failing, and I hate failing. I used private security companies, investigators, the police, everything, but you were always off grid. There wasn’t a trace, or if there was, it led nowhere. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find someone who doesn’t use credit cards, the internet or cellphones?”

  “That was sorta the point,” he replied.

  Jessica pursed her lips and regarded him. “I suppose. It was annoying. You know, after three years of work, my scientists and Joe haven’t been able to recreate the effect the virus had on you? I’ve tested hundreds of people.”

  “Your scientists? You mean Esaf?”

  Her water in hand, she took a sip. The guard who had handed it to her appeared to breathe a sigh of relief, but there wasn’t a sound. “Him, others. The stupid vampires had shot him, but he didn’t die. I kept him and brought him here as soon as I had a lab set up.”

  “You’ve owned this for years? Is that why you wanted me here? How’d you manage that?”

  “Easy as pie, with my AI friend. Based on you and your friends’ prior behavior, he assumed you’d keep coming for us. So, we let you. And once your actions told us enough about you, we pushed and pushed. Once you were at the breaking point, we gave you an escape route. Hints placed about Esaf, and a secret, off the grid facility.”

  As he listened, Wyatt thought back to their attacks on servers. Every time, they’d marveled at the lack of security. And then they’d been caught and escaped again. Joe had known they were there. Jessica had dozens, hundreds of Watchers, and yet they’d only sent six?

  Back in the Zone, the attack by police and Watchers was telegraphed, slow motion even. And then, there was one path out, an unguarded one that led to a bus that, despite being a shooting gallery, happened to work. And from there, a clear path to Palna.

  He cursed himself for his stupidity. Of course, if Seymour’s software could predict who would be where, and when, of course another AI could do the same to him.

  She must have read the defeat he felt, on his face, and giggled. “You did exactly what he told me you’d do.”

  “And now, we’re trapped,” Wyatt said, feeling the truth of it.

  Jessica stood up from the couch and walked… ambled… to him. She placed one palm flat on his chest and made a small cooing sound. “Yum. And if you’re thinking of escaping… well, of course you are… remember, while this is my fortress, for you and everyone else, it’s a prison.”

  “And…?”

  “You’re going to submit to my tests, you and all your friends. And if you don’t….” She trailed off, but the sick smile on her face made clear that she’d enjoy whatever punishment she inflicted. “Bring him to the lab.”

  ***

  The lab was crowded with Watchers, no Prats here. Teri was already there when he arrived, sitting on a high chair.

  Jessica pointed to a seat next to Esaf.

  “Hi, Esaf,” Wyatt said, masking the concern he felt. He wasn’t worried about himself, but didn’t like that Teri was there—it felt like a threat.

  The tall doctor nodded to the seat as well, and Wyatt sat.

  “What are we doing today? More drugs? Pictures of puke and Jessica? I’ll see if I can tell them apart this time.”

  “Quiet,” whispered the doctor. “It’ll be easier if you cooperate.”

  “I am, I sat down, didn’t I?”

  With a rough hand, Esaf pushed up Wyatt’s sleeve an
d tied a rubber band around his arm.

  “Blood work? Didn’t you get enough?”

  Jessica stepped forward, taking the needle from Esaf’s hand. “Let me.”

  “I didn’t know you’d taken nursing,” joked Wyatt, uncomfortably eyeing the long needle.

  “You’re lucky, I like my men manly.”

  She pointed to two Watchers. “Hold him.” They rushed forward, each grabbing one of Wyatt’s arms and holding them tight to the medical chair. “It’s not that I don’t trust you… oh wait, I don’t.”

  “You think I’d get rough?”

  “Doctor, do you have some scissors?” Pointing to a third guard, she said, “You, hold his head back.”

  At this, Wyatt started to panic. Being told he’d die soon was bad, but he could handle it. Her with a needle, scissors and men holding him down? That was terrifying. He tried to pull away from the men holding him, but barely moved an inch. Seconds later, his head was pulled back into the chair by the third man.

  Jessica sat on his lap and stared at him intently, a cool smile playing across her lips. “What do you think I’m going to do?” she asked playfully. Leaning in, she whispered into his ear. “What do you think I’m going to cut off? What can you live without?”

  Writhing in his chair, he managed to dislodge her. “Legs, legs,” she said, and two other guards hurried forward to hold his legs down. She sat back on his lap again, her smile unbroken. She leaned, licked his left ear and whispered, “I like it rough, but not today… or perhaps, not right now.”

  She wiggled on his lap like she was getting comfortable, and clicked the scissors a few times, inches from his face. “What to cut, what to cut? Should we take a poll? Esaf,” she said, turning to the tall doctor. “What can I cut off without hurting your work?”

  “Don’t bleed him out,” the man said, dispassionately.

  “Are you kidding?” asked Wyatt. “Doc, come on…”

  “I’ve already told you. You’ll soon be dead. None of this matters.”

  “We’re all going to be dead someday. That doesn’t mean torture is right.”

  Esaf didn’t hesitate in his reply, “Doesn’t make it wrong either.”

  “I like him, he’s obedient,” Jessica said, snapping the scissors open. She traced a line down his chest and then cut his shirt open. With both hands, she ripped it apart from bottom to top. “There we go. Abs, they make everything more fun. Okay, doctor, show me how to draw blood,” she said with a sick grin aimed at Wyatt. “I’ll be gentle.”

  With a long, slow breath to calm himself, Wyatt listened to Esaf explain how and where to insert the needle. Halfway through the explanation, she impatiently took it from his hand and plunged it into Wyatt’s arm.

  “No, not that deep,” Esaf said as Wyatt struggled to not cry out in pain.

  She pulled it out a bit, her eyes on Wyatt’s face, not his arm. “There?”

  “More, just a bit further back, a quarter inch.”

  She didn’t look down. Wyatt did, and saw the needle come all the way out. “Oops,” she said. “One more try. Do I use the same hole, or make a new one?”

  She put a finger down and dabbed at the blood, then licked her finger. “I hear you have special powers. Or you claim to. Is this true?”

  Of course, Esaf had told her. “I blew up a bulldozer,” he said, with nothing to lose by telling the truth that she’d already heard—and didn’t appear to believe.

  She poked the needle in again. “He said it’s something you do, to activate the virus. That you’ve infected that young girl over there,” she said, nodding to Teri.

  “Is that why I’m still alive?”

  She shrugged gently. “Someone get me a cloth. I don’t want blood on this dress. If I get blood on this dress, I’ll make sure it’s covered from head to toe, and not with Wyatt… but with whatever one of you that I find the least pretty. And remember, boys, disobedience isn’t pretty.”

  Three guards raced to find something to put on her. Two brought back small cloths, the third a smock. She favored him with a smile, and Wyatt thought the man would keel over with joy. Moving the needle around in his arm, she looked back up, her face inches from his.

  “There you go,” said Esaf. Against all odds, she must have found a vein. “Now leave the needle in and switch vials. I need at least three for the tests I need to run.”

  “Sounds boring,” she said, and let the needle fall against his forearm. Wyatt badly wanted to cry out as the needle pushed up in his arm.

  Esaf came forward to take it and finish the work.

  “You’re alive because you’re interesting, perhaps amusing even. And because you have something special in you. You didn’t answer me; did you infect her? Does she have powers too?”

  “Don’t worry about her. I’ve got the powers.”

  She slapped him across the face, hard. “Next time, I’ll be holding the scissors when I do it. Answer the question.”

  “Esaf’s already told you. She’s demonstrated some special abilities.”

  “He’s also said they can’t be transferred from her to me, that I need to get it from you.”

  That was a dangerous line of questioning. If he said they couldn’t be, would Teri—and the others—still be necessary? Would they be in more danger if he said yes, or no? He looked to the side as far as possible, given that his head was being held fast, and saw Teri standing to one side. She appeared to be preternaturally calm. “I don’t know,” he said.

  She leaned against him, her long white hair trailing down and tickling at his chest, as Esaf drew a third vial of blood. “Hrm,” she said. “How do you do it?”

  “What?”

  “Those special things.”

  “I don’t know,” he answered, honestly.

  She regarded him with doubt. “Four years, and you’ve not learned anything? I believed you when I asked you in that basement, but now….”

  “It’s the same as before. I touch them, heal them… and sometimes, something different happens. Sometimes they change. Sometimes they don’t.”

  With a sniff, she stood up. “How long does he have?”

  Esaf shrugged. “Could be days, could be weeks. His DNA is mutating. He might get cancer, might just get some immune disorder, I don’t know. It’s unprecedented, nobody has experience with anything like this.”

  “This is why I’ve kept you alive. It’s why I allowed you to save the girl. If you can’t figure it out before he dies, if you can’t harness it for me… you’ll experience pain beyond that of any of the toys you’ve experimented on over the years. Is that clear?”

  Esaf nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

  “No, you’ll do it. And you,” she said, turning again to Wyatt. “If you want Teri to live, you’d better live long enough for him to figure it out.”

  Chapter 30

  After blood was drawn, Teri and Wyatt were released. Jessica had two guards follow them, but other than that, they were free to go.

  As they walked back through Palna, hand in hand, Wyatt pondered the mess this had become. Prats stood guard through the building, and Watchers wandered about, in complete control. The residents regarded him with bitterness—it was because of him that their little world had been invaded.

  Jessica was right, this was a prison. His old history teacher would call this desperate ground. It was a place with few or no choices, where their lives were at risk. Fighting appeared the only choice. But this was a fight he knew he would lose.

  As they passed a pair playing chess, he looked down and calculated that black would win in three moves, perhaps four. It was the same for him in his battle with Jessica. He didn’t have a strategy that would win, not here. And she was playing with the help of a computer, one that calculated dozens of moves in advance, one that knew him better than he knew himself.

  Wyatt led Teri to two empty chairs, and sat down. “I need to think.”

  She nodded and sat across from him.

  “They expect me to escape.�
��

  She nodded and signed, “Expect you to try to escape.”

  Wistfully, he agreed. “Try.” To defeat them, he’d need to do the opposite of what they expected. He needed to surprise a computer that couldn’t be surprised.

  Joe would expect him to fight, to use his fists. He had to escape without a fight.

  Joe expected him to try to save everyone. Wyatt didn’t know that he had it in him to leave a single person behind. And yet… he would have to. His heart ached even at the thought of it.

  What else? Joe would expect him to think things through, to be careful. So, he couldn’t plan, there wouldn’t be time to make sure everything was perfect. He needed to just do it.

  With a smile, he asked Teri, “Any chance of Jedi tricks, could you just… you know, do one of your things?”

  She shook her head, but still smiled. “I’m drained.”

  That was interesting, he’d not thought of her powers like that, but it made sense. His healing ability took days, sometimes weeks, to build up in him after he used it. Heck, after a race, his muscles took days to recover. There wasn’t anything strange about it. She wasn’t a computer that could endlessly keep on processing. Is it the same with me, is that why I’ve lost my brief connection? It’s a new muscle, an untrained one?

  After a few minutes of silence, he gave her a touch on the knee, and said, “Thanks.” They got up and walked through the unfriendly hall and rejoined their friends in the cafeteria, taking up a position in the center again.

  “That bad?” Emm asked, when he sat with a heavy sigh.

  “Not that good.”

  “What’d Esaf do?”

  “Nothing… took some blood.”

  Leaning in, she asked, “Then what?”

  “Look around… it’s just setting in, how bad this is,” he said.

  “There are more of us than them. We can organize…”

  “There aren’t more of us, not Dogs. Look around at the other residents. They’re here because they’ve given up. They don’t think things can be fixed. They came here to wait for everything to fall apart. They’re not revolutionaries, they’re quitters.” For some in Palna, perhaps it had seemed a game, a lark, a joke, but they hadn’t not spent this much money because of faith in the ability to fight the inevitable.