The Way Home

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The Way Home Page 10

by Shannon Flagg


  “Daily meal?” Susan felt slow, like her brain was really just a blob inside of her head. Had she been drugged?

  “They bring in food and water once a day, take out the shit bucket.”

  “How long have you been here?” Susan shifted so that she was sitting up straight. She needed to somehow try and get her bearings. It was going to be important to think clearly.

  “Three... no wait, more like four months. I'm Jane, by the way.”

  “Susan.”

  “Mind if I ask what you did to end up in here, Susan?”

  “I'm not sure. Not even sure how I got here. I was heading home,” the details were so fuzzy but right there, she just couldn't get a grasp on them.

  “I was coming out of Game Stop, completely psyched to go home and play games while stuffing myself with pizza. I miss pizza. And video games.” Jane sighed heavily. “Anyway, what are you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “There's no need to play coy, Susan. Far as I can tell, every single person who came here had another side. I'm a tiger, a white tiger. Very rare, that's why I'm in here and not stuck in one of the barns.”

  “Barns?” Susan was getting more confused by the second.

  “I saw them when they brought me in,” Jane replied. “I think that's when I realized I wasn't getting out of here. Dozens of people just tied up like animals.”

  “Wait, this is The Hunters?”

  “Is that what you call them? We called them Ghosts back home. But yeah, it's them. Every Shifter's worst nightmare come to life. So, what are you? Some kind of exotic cat?”

  “Bear,” Susan replied. There had been a sick feeling in her stomach since she woke but now it was a pit of misery. She'd been captured by The Hunters. There was no worse scenario to be imagined.

  “Really, just a bear?” Jane sounded disappointed. “You must be important somehow, or really hot, or you wouldn't be in here. Which one is it?”

  “I'm not sure.” Susan leaned back against the wall, it was hard and cool against the material of her tee shirt. Jane's assumption that this was once a shipping container didn't seem far off. It might as well have been a coffin, because bound the way she was, with no sharp objects around, there was no way that she was getting out.

  It would take an escape artist to break out of this situation, and as soon as the thought crossed her mind, she thought of Houdini. Poor Houdini. By now he'd realize that she was gone. He'd be trying to find her, doing everything that he could to find her. Except that he wouldn't. They'd tried for so hard to find anything out about The Hunters, and they had jack shit to go on, unless Ethan Clark had given something up to The Vikings. Susan clung to the hope of that thought and of Houdini; she wrapped herself in the feelings as best she could, shut her eyes and tuned out the nonstop commentary from Jane.

  The next thing she knew there was light, blinding light pointed right at her eyes. Susan raised her hand to shield her eyes but the beam was too bright for her to see anything except brilliant white spots. Strong hands grabbed her, pulled her to her feet and for a moment she was sure that Houdini had found her. Tears of joy sprang to her eyes until she realized that he wouldn't have blinded her and he'd be saying something. Whoever had their hands on her had said nothing. Jane said nothing, which was probably the first time she'd been quiet since Susan arrived, but was obviously still there, her breathing fast and panicked.

  There was the sound of the chain around her waist being unlocked just as something was placed over her head so even if she was able to see, she wouldn't be able to, and it smelled, so it was very hard to breathe. Susan was dragged, there was no other way to describe it. She'd have liked to say she fought, but she didn't. She went docilely; she was so tired. Finally the dragging stopped; she was shoved down to the floor. Minutes passed, or maybe hours, really she wasn't sure. There was more noise here, voices and the scent of both humans and shifters. It was a jolt to realize that the exchanges she was hearing had a friendly tone to them; they were working together.

  No wonder her kind was being slaughtered for sport. They were being betrayed by their own. It made her wonder if anyone that she knew was collaborating with the enemy. Just when she thought things couldn't get any worse, they did. When was it going to stop? Would it ever stop?

  Susan felt her entire body tense as a door shut and footsteps approached. The covering was removed from her head. She blinked, looked up and remembered what happened before she was taken with sudden and shocking clarity.

  “Nice to see you, too, Susan.” He dropped the black bag to the floor. “Stay where you are. If you move, I will hurt you.”

  “What the fuck is this?” Susan demanded.

  “This has been a long time coming. I really should thank you. After all you are the reason that I was able to realize my true calling.” Rick stood over her, looking down at her with an expression she'd never seen before. “When you told me that truth, that you were a fucking animal pretending to be human, it was almost too much to take. I came very close to ending my own life. Instead, I had a revelation.”

  Susan's head was still spinning, her brain struggling to make sense of everything, but she knew enough to know whatever revelation Rick had experienced wasn't going to be good. None of this was good. “What revelation?”

  “I realized that I could expose you and your kind for what you were but then realized in a country promoting gay and interracial marriage, they'd likely just fucking embrace you. Instead, I needed to make sure that you were all eradicated, erased like you'd never existed.”

  “There are my kind out there, working with The Hunters.”

  “The Hunters? That's cute, not really very inspired, but what can I expect from filthy animals. And yes, there are your kind out there, and they lead me to more and more of you every day. You'd be surprised how much of a motivator money can be.”

  “What do you want from me?”

  “I want you stuffed and mounted in my den. I want to watch you gather dust.”

  “So, if that's your endgame why don't you just kill me right now?”

  “Nice try, but if I kill you now, I have a human body. I want a trophy, not a reason to be sent to jail for the rest of my life.” Rick crouched down so that they were eye to eye. “And before I kill you, I'm going to kill everyone that you love.”

  “This is between the two of us.” Susan replied, her heart heavy in her chest. She now knew what the look in Rick's eyes was; it was determination. If he set his mind to something, he did it.

  “That's where you're wrong. I've kept tabs on you over the years, Susan, and the only reason that you've lasted this long is because you were alone, but now, well, now you're a Stray and mated to a human. I guess you do have a type.”

  “Leave them out of it.” Her voice cracked as she spoke, the display of emotion was humiliating enough without Rick's laughter.

  “I don't think I will. I've got someone who wants to say hello.” Rick made a disapproving sound as Susan moved to get to her feet. “Stay where you are, or I will hurt you.”

  Susan didn't know who wanted to say hello; she didn't care. The sudden and crushing realization of how many innocents had died because she chose the wrong man to love had been one thing. It was something else entirely for him to kill off everyone that she loved just to see her suffer. She couldn't suffer if she was dead, and she was willing to die to protect them.

  Rick reacted instantly when she got to her feet, his hand connected with her face in a sharp slap. Susan wasn't sure if her cheek was just bruised or broken but she went down to the floor as the pain rolled over her. “Come in,” he called out to whoever was outside the door. “You remember Michael, don't you, Susan?”

  Most of what Susan knew about Michael was simply his reputation. He was a cruel son of a bitch, and he was supposed to be dead. All The Grievers were supposed to be dead, mutilated and dumped into a mass grave. He smiled at her and chills traveled up and down her spine. “Oh, wait a second. Did you really think that Michael wa
s dead? That it would be that simple? Stupid bitch.”

  “Pretty bitch,” Michael chimed in. “Nice ass.”

  “As nice as Vera's?” Rick questioned. Susan didn't realize she moved until she felt his boot connect with her ribs. Fresh pain spiraled through her. Christ, he was stronger than she'd realized.

  “No,” Michael said simply. “It's not as nice as Vera's. I'm getting really impatient to return to Center City and see her again.”

  “Again?” Susan looked between the two of them. As far as she knew, Vera and Michael didn't really know each other at all. She'd never met any of The Grievers.

  “Haven't you figured it out yet?” Rick smiled widely. “I'm really disappointed in you, or more likely I gave you too much credit. The attack on Vera wasn't random. It should have been fatal, but he did give it his best shot.”

  “Why Vera?” Susan asked, though somewhere inside of her she was pretty sure that she knew the answer. Vera had been targeted because she was her friend, at that point her only friend. “Wait, don't bother answering that, bastards. Both of you are bastards.”

  “Sticks and stones, Susan. Though sticks and stones do break bones.” Michael laughed as if he'd made a great joke. “Are we using her for tonight or what?”

  “No, not tonight.” Rick looked down at Susan, smirked. “Take her back to her cell, would you?”

  “My pleasure.” Michael was on Susan before she could really even register it. He threw her over his shoulder, slapped her ass hard. “Might stay and visit a bit, have some fun.”

  “Do what you'd like with the tiger, just don't kill her. Don't touch this one. Make no mistake, she's mine.” Rick's smile was something out of a horror movie. He was something out of a horror movie, and Susan was having a hard time wrapping her head around it all.

  The only thing that was clear to her was her revealing herself to Rick had set all of this in motion. People had gotten killed and more would die unless he was stopped. “Let's go, Bitch.”

  <#<#<#

  “If you move closer, as close as you can, and I do the same, I should be able to reach you well enough to check your wounds.” Susan took off her tee shirt; it wasn't the cleanest packing material but it would have to do.

  “I'll be fine, Susan. He just ripped me up some. I'll heal.”

  “Yes, you will but you need not suffer more when it can be avoided.” Susan didn't know how Jane was so calm. It seemed like it was a million years since Michael brought her back to the cell. Once he'd locked her up, he turned his attention to Jane.

  Rape wasn't a strong enough word for the horror the blonde had experienced, yet she'd taken it with only the occasional sob or scream. Long after he'd left, she'd simply lain there in the stream of sun let in by the door. There had been others, standing outside and watching. Susan had screamed until one of the guards, Allen, finally came and shut the door. Now she'd been pleading with Jane for what seemed like ever.

  “Really, Susan, relax. You're right about one thing, some padding will make me feel better. Fucker was really in a mood today. I think he might have tore me a little.”

  “They can't let you go untreated. I'm a doctor for fuck's sake. All I need is a kit and some light and....” Susan couldn't continue speaking, she didn't know what to say. She was just able to reach her arm out enough for Jane to grab the shirt and take it. “Roll it up as small and tight at you can, it's gonna hurt but the pressure will stop the bleeding. I'm so sorry that happened to you.”

  “Save the sorry, it's happened a lot but I don't think you have to worry about Michael that way. I think that you have to worry about Rick. I heard the guards talking after they took you.” Jane let out a weak laugh. “You shouldn't be sorry for me, sweet pea. You should be sorry for yourself, because if rumors are true, you're going to die slowly, broken in every single way. That man does not have a soul.”

  “Once upon a time he did, but it is gone now. I am sorry for what he's had done to you, to so many others. Whatever he does to me, it will not be payment enough for what I started. You should try to rest. Remember, just keep constant pressure down there.”

  “I will. Thank you, Susan.”

  Susan settled down against the hay, got as comfortable as she could and shut her eyes. She erected a series of walls inside of her mind, only allowing thoughts of her time with Houdini. Happy times, not thoughts of the future. She couldn't handle those. So instead she thought of how he'd talked her into skinny dipping in a freezing lake, how he'd hold her so tight at night there was no way she could dream, surrounded by the scent of him. She loved him so much. He might never know just how much.

  “Jane?”

  “Yes, Susan.”

  “If there were a way out of here, would you take it?”

  “If someone tried to escape, they would be killed as soon as they were caught. There are at least a dozen guards and I don't think we're close to anything. The drive here took forever.”

  “Just talking out loud, I guess.” Susan got comfortable again, allowed silence to overtake them. Eventually Jane's breathing evened out. She was asleep; it was good because rest was what she needed. It was what they both needed. During medical school she'd trained herself to fall asleep in the oddest places.

  She didn't sleep a peaceful sleep or dream peaceful dreams. All she wanted was the feeling from earlier, when her mind had tricked her into believing that she was in Houdini's arms, but she couldn't find it. Each time that she woke, shifted to another uncomfortable position, she took the time to listen to Jane's labored breathing.

  Susan gave up on sleep once she realized that Jane's breathing was too labored. She'd known the woman was hurt worse than just the damage between her legs, but she hadn't wanted to let on. If this was Jane's last night, she didn't need to be any more scared than she already was. Minutes and hours ticked by, though Susan had no clue what time it really was or even what day it was.

  Jane's last breath was more of a gasp, and then there was nothing. For her the end meant a release from four months of hell; Susan was glad that she wouldn't have to suffer any longer, but she knew that she was likely to endure worse before her end.

  Chapter Ten.

  Houdini's eyes burned. His body ached from being hunched over a keyboard for the better part of twenty-four hours. People had suggested that he take a break. Deacon had tried to make him but had given up when asked if he'd stop if Vera were the one missing. Of course he wouldn't; he'd be no more capable of stopping than Houdini was.

  RI Ltd was owned by a corporation out of the Bahamas, which was in turn owned by another corporation in Turks and Cacos which was owned by a corporation out of Russia. It went on and on like that, back at least twelve shell companies deep. Whoever was behind RI Ltd obviously wanted to stay hidden.

  It was too bad for them that Houdini wasn't going to give up on finding them. In fact, he'd called in every favor he had at his disposal from like-minded friends. There were four computer guys from clubs friendly with The Vikings looking for Susan as well. Between them all, they would find her and find who had her.

  Houdini reached for another energy drink, but the way that his hand was shaking gave him pause. Maybe, just maybe he'd exceeded his caffeine tolerance for the day. Some water would probably do him good, along with some food and sleep, but stepping away felt like abandoning Susan.

  Finally when the words on the screen became nothing but a blur, he reached for the energy drink, but even it couldn't make him focus. With a groan, Houdini got up from the chair. His back ached and his bladder nearly cried for relief. He took care of that, grabbed a water from the fridge in the tiny kitchen and simply stared at the coffee cup left drying in the rack next to the sink. Its presence confirmed what he'd suspected; Susan had left the warehouse early in the morning, otherwise the cup would have been put away. She was neat, always.

  He knew that he drove her crazy with his tendency to discard his clothes wherever he took them off. It seemed she was always following behind him, for the most part she didn'
t seem to mind, unless she was in a mood, and then all bets were off. They'd had several epic fights over dirty socks and damp towels. Houdini would pick up after himself better once she was back. And she would be back, not finding her was not an option.

  After he'd lost Willow and Junior, he'd all but given up on life. It had been simply existing, going through the motions and maybe doing what he could to speed up the process. Houdini had run with a rough crowd, individuals of a certain skill set who seemed to be able to find one another. It was on one of those jobs, protecting a load of something valuable, where he'd met Deacon. Their paths crossed again a few months later, and after a few hours it seemed like they were old friends. It was Deacon's passion when he spoke of The Vikings that inspired Houdini to prospect.

  The Vikings became his family. He didn't think that he'd ever truly love them, but he had. Well, at least most of them. Truthfully, he'd never really liked Master or Double much, but he'd respected them and had their backs. Given what he now knew, he'd been right not to completely warm to them. But the rest of the guys, everyone was dead except for him and Deacon.

  The future of The Vikings, well the club, had already died once. He and Deacon had remained loyal, but two men didn't make a club. Now they had an infusion of fresh blood, several members of the pack were starting to show an interest in joining up. The new guys were, well, they were going to have to prove themselves in some tough times.

  They'd make it, and The Vikings would make it, or they wouldn't, and the club would once again become a cautionary tale in the biker world. Hell, even if they survived, they were going to be considered weak, and earning back trust and respect was going to be an uphill battle. When would this shit fucking end?

  Houdini took a shower, felt a little bit clearer and realized he was going to have to figure out something to eat. The pickings in the kitchen were slim: instant oatmeal and instant soup. He made both with microwaved boiling water, ate them one after the other, and then moved over to the bed. He couldn't imagine sleeping on the bed without Susan, but then picked up her pillow, breathed in her scent and fell face down, out for the count.

 

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