The Way Home (5 page)

“If earlier was any indication, it might be interesting.”

“Earlier was just a taste, a tease,” Houdini leaned in so that their faces were nearly touching. She kept her eyes on his, never looking away, and it was the hottest thing he'd ever seen. “Wait until we get a bed underneath us or a shower. I'm going to do things to you that are going to make you scream.”

“I'm not much of a screamer,” she shifted on his lap.

“Oh, we're going to change that. Trust me.”

“I do.” Her face went serious. “I really, really do.”

Houdini knew that her saying she trusted him meant as much as her saying she loved him. He couldn't stop himself from capturing her mouth with his, immediately going rock hard at the taste of her. He'd loved Willow, he always would, but he'd never felt the way that Susan made him feel. Her arms wrapped around his neck, gripped tight.

In a move he'd never be able to replicate, he managed to shift them so she was on her back, her legs around his waist. He half expected her to stop him; after all, they were out in public, but all she did was kiss him back, teeth nipping down on his lip. “We should go inside.” She whispered the words against his mouth.

“Smart girl,” he reluctantly stopped kissing her, sat back on his knees. Out of habit, he looked around and frowned at the sight of a new model pickup, huge and completely blacked out, parked across the street. It didn't belong to anyone in the neighborhood; he'd been keeping tabs on vehicles. It was possible it belonged to someone in the pack but not likely; it was a pretty high end vehicle. “Susan,” he glanced down at her. “Get up, really slowly. I think we've got company.”

“How many?” She sat up; didn't look over her shoulder, though. Houdini was proud of her for that, because he knew that she wanted to look.

“No clue, truck could seat four. Five if they pack 'em in tight enough.” He held out his hand, helped her to her feet. They just needed to get into the house, let everyone know what was going on, and it would be handled.

They wouldn't get that chance. The moment they were both on their feet the truck roared to life. The engine was loud, too loud, so it was likely modified in some way. Houdini noticed the after market body kit when it rumbled away from the curb.

“Well, that was weird.” Susan rubbed her hands over her arms. “You think it's someone Michael sent?”

“Can't see it being anyone else. We should get inside, tell the others what's going on.” He looked back at the street once more; the truck was long gone but the feeling of being watched lingered. He could feel it. He wanted out of the front yard, in the house where he'd have easy access to guns and other eyes and ears to keep a lookout.

Once inside, it was obvious that what he had to say was going to have to wait. Adelaide was in the center of the living room, Shepard and Lina on either side. “We were just about to call you in,” Adelaide smiled warmly at them. “We have good news. You are all a part of history as the pack and the Strays have entered into a treaty for the first time. A treaty that will allow us, working together, to find and decimate every last one of them.”

“They threaten the future. Humans should not possess such power over us. It begin with hunts and ends with slaves. They are not now, or will they ever, be our masters. We must join together for the good of our kind.” Shepard's voice carried through the room as if he were holding a microphone.

Houdini felt the tension. Some of the pack would want nothing to do with the Strays; after all they were outsiders for a reason, but he agreed that it was for the best that they work together. “I know some of you fear us, I can't say I blame you.” Lina cleared her throat. “You trusted your Leader, Josiah,  in the end, even if you didn't at first. I swear on my brother, you can trust us as well as you trust Adelaide.”

“I could simply order you all to comply, as Leader that is my right, but I will not. However, if you cannot find it in you to comply, you may leave. We will not run you out of town, but make no mistake, you will leave.” Adelaide's voice never wavered as she laid down the law. It was a shock to Houdini to realize that she meant every word; she normally had a very soft heart. She looked around the room, waiting to see if anyone would speak. “Very well, let's not let the fun of the night stop. Let's celebrate our unity.”

“Adelaide,” Houdini cleared his throat. “There's something I think that everyone needs to know. I wish it could wait but I don't think it can.”

“What's going on, Houdini?” Deacon spoke from the other side of the room.

“There was a truck parked across the street, about two houses down. It was a pickup, and I think last year's model. Black with dark tint.” Houdini knew all eyes were on him; he felt Susan grip his hand. “It had a modified body, I think I'd recognize the kit if I saw it again, and the engine had been tweaked. There were way too many horses under that hood. It took off once I noticed it.”

“We're going to need some volunteers for patrol. It would be wise to split off in pairs. We need to be vigilant, stay in contact.” Adelaide told them. “Let's not waste any time.”

“So much for us getting to bed anytime soon,” Houdini looked down at Susan. “You can stay here if you want, get some rest.” He could only hope that she'd take the offer. She was tired, he could see it. He also couldn't remember if she'd eaten anything since the toast she'd had at breakfast. He stopped short of asking her to stay, because he wasn't sure how she'd respond.

              “I'm good to go. We need all the eyes we can get, right?”

             
“Right.” Houdini leaned in, kissed her lightly. “Go grab a sweater and a couple of Power Bars, it's getting chilly out. And yes, I realize you're warm-blooded but get the sweater anyway.” He watched her go, sighed, pressed his hands against his face and tried to remember if the truck had been there when they'd went outside. He hadn't noticed anything except for Susan.

<#<#<#

There was no sign of the truck that night, the night after or even the night after that. Houdini was tired. Tired of being extra vigilant, of the seemingly endless patrols or watches with nothing to see. If he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, he might have started to believe that it didn't exist.

Things were changing. There were Strays in Center City, there to help find Michael. They were also helping the town with the beginning of the rebuilding. It was strange that so much was happening around them that they couldn't be sure of the future. Houdini didn't get why they were so intent on doing something so easily undone when The Grievers returned. Susan told him it was because they had hope, needed to show it one day, and that if it was destroyed they'd simply rebuild again. It was how they were built. She'd also admitted that she didn't understand it, that she wouldn't rebuild either and would rather wait until it was all over.

After another fruitless patrol around town, Houdini was glad to be heading back to the house. He needed a bed, a shower and food. He wasn't picky about the order which he got them. Seeing Susan would be nice, too, but she'd been pretty busy treating members of the pack who'd been wounded during Michael's coup and the hell that followed. As far as he could tell, she'd been sleeping about two hours a night and eating less than he had in one meal. She was working too hard. They were all working too hard and, even with the influx of people, stretched too thin. Michael was smarter than Houdini had given him credit for; the longer that he stayed away from Center City, the easier it was going to be for him to take it back over.

Houdini could see the house from where he was.
His exhaustion took over, and his mind couldn't focus on anything but a hot meal and shower, so he didn't realize that someone was behind him until he heard the scuff of a boot on the pavement. The next thing he knew, he was face down on the concrete. The stinging of his skinned cheek was nothing compared to the way his jaw could have broken. He began to struggle the best he could, managed to get a grip on his attacker's arm, but then his head hit the sidewalk again and there was nothing.

Chapter Five.

Susan was really close to just saying fuck it, walking out of Rose's house and just putting one foot in front of another until she wasn't surrounded by people anymore, until she could hear herself think and not have anyone ask her a medical question. Not only had she treated those injured by The Grievers, but it seemed like everyone who had an ache, pain or had sneezed within the last ten years of thier lives. She was tired, she was so tired.

“Susan,” Adelaide spoke from behind her. “Eddie Driver isn't feeling so hot. Do you mind taking a look at him?” Eddie Driver was one of the pack guys, called such because it was his name, and they also had another Eddie who was simply called Eddie.

“I need a break,” Susan turned to face her friend, hoped that she'd understand. Adelaide had always been an exceptionally empathetic person. “I've seen twelve different people today and that's after I did wound checks on everyone The Grievers injured.” She hoped that Adelaide would remember what it felt like to tend wounds for hours, the toll it took on the body and soul.

Either she didn't remember, or worse, she didn't care. “We're all tired, Susan. I understand, but surely you can make it through one more patient?” Adelaide smiled sweetly, but it didn't quite meet her eyes. She'd changed, was still changing, and Susan still was on the fence about whether it was for better or for worse.

“Sure, why not?” Susan resigned herself to another patient. Hopefully her agreeing would help maintain the delicate balance of peace in the house. It was impossible not to have issues with as many people as were under their roof. It was important that they set a good example for the pack; while the majority of pack members appeared to be willing to work together, there were members of the pack who were definitely considering leaving. The tension was worse now than it had been with her, Houdini, Deacon and Vera at each other's throats.

She turned back to the kitchen table she was using to hold her kit and the basic supplies she'd managed to cobble together and made sure everything was as it should be. She went to the sink to wash her hands, looked out the window and saw the truck that they'd all been looking for. Susan remained at the window; she didn't want to take her eyes off it. She called for Adelaide, but it was Shepard who walked into the kitchen.

“The pickup is outside, parked across the street.” She told him before he could say a word. “We've got to move, now.” Susan hissed the words in a harsh whisper. There was something tight inside of her, something she couldn't explain at the sight of the truck. She knew it was the truck, she had committed Houdini's description to memory, but he hadn't mentioned the insignia on the door. The shield with the castle inside, four flying flags.

It had to be a coincidence. After all, many people used the image of a shield in advertising; she was so far away there was no way she could be sure of what was actually on it. When Susan looked over again, she didn't see it any longer. Now it was official, she was losing her mind and there was no way around it.

Shepard let out a sharp whistle. It carried through the air and soon the whole house was in chaos as people armed themselves and surged out of the house. Susan did a quick head count, a dozen people including her. Houdini and some of the others on patrol should be back any moment. If there was a perfect time for the truck to show up it was now.

It was also too perfect, suddenly and fully clear to Susan that this wasn't a coincidence with the timing. And there they were, rushing right into the sure trap. “Wait, what if it's a trap?” She followed the crowd out the door, but no one was listening. And then she forgot about the truck, about the pack, about the Strays. She forgot everything at the sight of Houdini face down on the sidewalk across the street from the truck.

Susan ran to him, dropped down to the ground next to him. “Houdini. Houdini.” She brought her hand up to the back of his head, it came away covered in blood. “Fuck. Fuck. Help!” There was no way that she was going to be able to drag him back to the house alone.

“GET BACK!” Shepard shouted the words. “It's a bomb.”

“HELP ME!” Susan screamed over the sea of voices and movement that followed. “Damn it, Houdini, get up. Please, get up.”

“I've got him,” she could have wept with joy when she heard Deacon's voice come from behind her. “Go back to the house, that thing blows and we're going to need our only doctor. Don't worry, we're right behind you.”

Susan got up and ran, her gut told her to trust that Deacon would be right behind her, Houdini would be safe and they'd all be whole. She wanted them all to be whole. The explosion came just as she reached the yard. The force of the blast threw her forward, the windows on this side of the house shattered.

“We're right here, Susan. I'm going to get him inside and then go check and make sure everyone got inside.” Deacon was calm. He was always calm, or rather mostly calm unless the situation involved Vera.

“There could be a secondary device,” Susan's voice sounded strange to her, like it was echoing through water. “Everyone should stay back from the truck, or rather what's left of it.” She looked over the rubble. The frame was on fire, smoke was thick in the air, and pieces of flaming debris littered the street and yard. 

For a moment she just stood there, watched the fire and everyone rushing around. People were screaming. They were hurt. From where she stood, she could see two people down, and there was no hope for them. Even if they were still alive, they wouldn't survive the ride to the hospital. It was only then that Susan realized they should have been hearing sirens by now, the police and fire departments responding to the blast, but there was only the roar of the fire and screams.

“Susan!” Adelaide grabbed her arm. “We need you.”

“We need to start a triage system so we can get to those who need us the most. Where's Caro?”

“She's among the injured.”

“If she can walk and talk, we need her.” Susan pulled down deep inside of her and shut down everything but her medical training. She'd excelled in trauma, possessing the ability to remain calm even in the face of a dire situation. She could handle whatever this day was going to throw at her, but she knew who she was going to tend to first.

              Deacon had laid Houdini on the couch. She stepped over several people to get to him. The wound to the back of his head was her main concern. She'd also need to clean the lacerations on his face, his poor face; there were deep scrapes on his chin and cheek. “Houdini, wake up. Come on. Do not do this to me. Do not do this to me.”

             
His eyes opened. “I'm here.”

             
“How is your vision? Blurry? Seeing double?” Susan struggled to keep emotion out of her voice. If she got upset, he'd get upset, and she couldn't risk that right now. “What's your pain level on a scale of one to ten?”

             
“I got my bell rung. I'm alright. What happened?” He tried to sit up but she pushed him back down with a stern look.

             
“I don't know what happened to you but I saw the pickup parked outside. It was wired to blow. Shepard realized that something was off.” Now was not the time to mention she'd tried to warn them. There was nothing to be done about it. All they could do now was deal with it and move forward.

             
“Michael isn't that smart,” he leaned back against the couch with a sigh. “Go take care of them, I'll be alright. Trust me, this isn't my first head injury.”

             
“That's what worries me.” Susan told him even as relief began to spread through her; medically he seemed sound. “You should be monitored.”

             
“I'll be fine,” he assured her. “Go on, they need you more than I do.”

             
“If you move off that couch, I will drug you and put you in an adult diaper,” Susan leaned in and kissed him. “Got me?”

             
“Got you. I'm just going to rest here, watch you work.”

             
Susan did work. She'd thought that she was exhausted before, but it was twelve hours before she was finally done. She'd lost count of the wounds that she sutured; the gashes would haunt her for a while. The bomb had been designed to maim, not kill, but it had taken the lives of three of them: Eddie Driver, Karl Malloy and Dina Vaughn had been within feet of the truck. Eddie and Karl were pack, Dina a Stray. There was no one who wasn't injured in some way. Even she, who had been well away from the blast, had been hit with flying debris. The adrenaline must have dulled the pain.

             
With everyone tended to and Houdini asleep once more on the couch, Susan grabbed her kit and headed into the bathroom. She dropped her jeans and sighed at the sight of the wounds on her legs. It took only a few minutes to clean the area and remove all foreign matter. It hurt like a bitch but she soldiered on and let her mind wander.

             
Houdini had said that Michael wasn't this smart, and she agreed with him one hundred and ten percent. Everything that she knew about the man painted him to be a hothead. Hotheaded people didn't let things settle down the way that they had, they attacked and attacked because of the rage that drove them. They weren't the type to make bombs intended to maim, hotheads were the type to go for as much death and damage as possible, as Michael had done when he ordered the fires.

             
As she wound gauze around her leg, she wondered who could be behind this. What else were they behind? Lately, she'd had this lingering feeling that the other shoe was about to drop. This sure felt like the other shoe dropping. She should have known that it was coming; it was simply her luck. There was no way she could ever be this happy, not when Rick's fate was on her head. His blood was likely on her hands.

             
Susan dropped the roll of gauze as the bathroom door opened. “Hey, I'm in here.”

             
“No shit.” Houdini closed the door behind him, leaned against it. “You want to tell me why you're patching yourself up?”

             
“Because I'm a doctor,” Susan replied. “A doctor who said that you should still be laying down or do you suddenly want an adult diaper?”

             
“You're doing a shit job for a doctor.” He came to kneel next to her and picked up the gauze. “And I napped, I'm good. You should have come and got me.”

             
“I could do it myself.”

             
“The point is, you don't have to do it yourself.” He began to undress the wound. Susan sighed and shut her eyes. “We've got to find you somewhere to sleep.”

             
“There's no where in this house with all the injured. I don't even need a bed, I could fall asleep right here.”

             
“You're not falling asleep sitting on the toilet. I'm going to finish cleaning up your leg, and then I'm going to find somewhere for you to sleep. And food.”             

             
“I am hungry, but I'm more tired, so if it's all the same to you, I just want to sleep.” Susan opened her eyes reluctantly, looked down to see him doing a pretty decent job on her wounds. “Where did you learn how to do that?”

“I leaned basic first aid so that I could take diving groups down. I learned more when I realized just how handy it came in. Learned more when I worked as an EMT.”

“You were an EMT?” The mental image of Houdini in the uniform did funny things to her stomach, made her want to do things to him that her body didn't have enough stamina for. Frustration took hold of her and she huffed out a sigh.

Houdini had been watching her the entire time, and Susan watched his brown furrow at her sigh. “It's nothing, I'm just really tired.” She was pretty sure that he didn't believe her and hoped that he would just let it go, at least for now. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Everything, Houdini. I really do appreciate you. I need you to know that.”

“Relax,” he told her, a small smile on his lips. “I know how you feel about me, Susan. Now, you're all patched up. Let's get you to a bed.”

“I need to change your bandages first, there's still some bleeding from the laceration on your cheek.”

“What's another scar?” He shifted so that she could reach him better, handed over her kit.

“How did you get this scar?” Slowly Susan traced her finger over it, from his eyebrow down to just beneath his eye. He could have easily lost his sight. “You don't have to tell me if you don't want, I know that I ask a lot of questions sometimes, and that I don't always give you as many answers as you'd like.”

“Susan...” he was going to try and cut her off but she shook her head and continued.

“No, Houdini. It's the truth. I don't give you anywhere near what I should, anywhere near what you deserve. I don't know that I ever can.” A horrible feeling took root in Susan's stomach, her mind making it worse as she replayed everything over and over again, from today and the bombing to the moment that she'd opened her mouth and got them both entry into the Strays.

In that moment she'd known that the assumption would be they were together, and she'd rolled with it, rolled right along without giving Houdini a choice. He'd never so much as raised an eyebrow to that fact, had accepted their new life without hesitation. She'd railroaded him right into it, given him just enough encouragement so that he wouldn't lose hope and pull away. She hadn't done it maliciously, not at all, but she should have been strong enough to not let things get this far.