The Bleeding Crowd (12 page)

“You’re infuriating, you know that?”

“I’m picking up the slack since you aren’t.”
Dahlia did her best to fight down a smile.

Ben nodded with a grin. “It seems we’re
perfect for each other. When one of us is being nice—”

“I wouldn’t go so far as to say we’re perfect
for each other.” She pulled on her underwear and then a dress.

“When will you get back?”

“I get off at 17:00,” she said, looking at
him, unsure. “Do you want to stay here or go back to the camp?”

“What’s today?” he asked.

“Monday.”

“I meant the date.”

“The ninth,” she said. “Why?”

“Almost your independence day.”

She paused and nodded. “In a week and a
half.”

He nodded, looking back out the window. “I
suppose I’ll stick around.”

“Because of Independence Day?” She
frowned.

“Because it isn’t your independence day,” he
said. “Women are always... gone, when it’s your independence
day.”

Dahlia smiled. “Well, it is a big day.”

“For you.”

“For us,” she agreed.

* * * *

At work, Dahlia caught up on her case notes.
They had never been Dahlia’s strong suit, and she certainly hadn’t
been made a doctor because of her penchant for paperwork, Today,
something about them seemed especially daunting. Not enough sleep,
perhaps. Or she was more distracted than she was going to let
herself admit.

“Knock, knock.” Cassandra called.

Dahlia held up a finger, finishing typing
something into her tablet before turning around. “Hey.”

“Catching up on paperwork?”

“No, I just thought I’d sit around and play
with patients’ minds.” Dahlia smiled. “The slides were making me go
cross-eyed. Is there anyone else in the waiting room?”

“I think Willa got the rest of them.”
Cassandra shook her head.

Dahlia slipped the tablet away. “Do you want
to do an early lunch?”

“Yes, yes, I would, but I also wanted to give
you this.”

Dahlia looked at the package Cassandra
offered her. “An inconspicuously butcher-paper-wrapped
package?”

“It was left at the front desk for you.”

“That’s not suspicious at all.” Dahlia took
the box from her, sniffing it. All she could smell was the dry
paper. “Think it’s dangerous?”

“Don’t know why someone would send you
something dangerous. Open it.”

Dahlia studied it for another moment, and
then shrugged and pulled the paper off. Inside was a box, and
inside the box, a small plastic container, not much bigger than her
palm.

“What is it?” Cassandra stared at the
box.

“No clue.” Dahlia opened the container, a
vaguely sweet smell coming from it. “It looks like some sort of
dried herbs in, very, very crude, capsules.”

“What herb?”

Dahlia shrugged, picking up the note inside.
Squared-off block letters declared
DO NOT INJEST.
“Whatever
it is, it’s not supposed to be ingested. The person who packaged it
didn’t know how to spell ‘ingest’.”

“Why are they pills if you aren’t supposed to
take them?”

Dahlia shook her head, “You assume I have any
idea? I’ll have to test what’s in one.”

* * * *

Ben’s smile dropped as soon as he saw the
look on Dahlia’s face. “Something wrong?”

She looked at him for a moment before sighing
and sitting down on the bed. She held up a plastic container.
“This.”

He glanced at it. “Tupperware?”

“Hmm?” she looked up.

“Those plastic containers are called
Tupperware,” he said.

“Ah.” She looked at it. “Well, it’s really
more what’s inside the container.”

“Well.” He sat next to her. “What’s in there,
then?”

“Nerium Oleander,” she said.

Ben’s eyebrows rose and then dropped. He
shook his head. “I have no idea what that is.”

“It’s an evergreen shrub,” she said. “It
was... well it was supposed to have been irradiated. It’s pretty,
but other than decoration, it was only really good for killing
things.”

“So, it’s a poison,” he said.

“Pretty much,” Dahlia responded. “It was
dropped off at the hospital front desk with my name on it, but
nobody knows by whom. The security cameras don’t even show anyone
leaving it there. It’s all very cloak and dagger. All it had was my
name on it and this note.”

He took it and then hesitated. “What does it
say?”

“Do not ingest... well, injest, they didn’t
spell it right. I’ve been trying to determine if it was just a typo
or if it’s some sort of clue I’m completely missing.”

“Clue?”

“Well, in jest, two words, means like as a
joke. It could have been just like a Silver-level typo or it could
be someone playing a joke on me.”

“With poison?”

“With a poison that’s not supposed to exist
anymore.” She stood, setting the container down with her medical
bag. “You know, with the oleander dried like this, so concentrated,
there’s enough in there to kill the better part of this
metropolitan area.”

Ben watched her. “So why haven’t you gotten
rid of it?”

“I need to figure out whom to tell about it,
and how to dispose of it safely. If I burn it, it contaminates the
air around it. I can’t bury it without contaminating the ground and
possibly the water. I’ll most likely have to turn it over to some
sort of hazmat team. Though, you wouldn’t want to turn it over to
someone with a bone to pick.”

“I thought all you women were peaceful. Don’t
you trust the others not to poison people?”

“There hasn’t been a war since the men left,”
she said, “but the power to have someone you don’t like to just
fall over dead without any way to trace it back to you? Oleander is
all but untraceable a few hours after death. The body metabolizes
it quickly. If someone wanted someone dead, it’s the perfect,
nonviolent, way to kill them without leaving behind a trace to
point to an intentional killing. It would just look like the person
had a sudden myocardial infarction.”

“A what now?” Ben asked.

“A heart attack.”

“You couldn’t have just said heart
attack?”

“Well, we doctors use big words to scare
people out of wanting to play doctor.” She essayed a weak
smile.

“I think it works,” Ben said. “Sounds like
you’ve had an interesting day.”

“To say the least,” Dahlia responded.
“Hopefully your day hasn’t been nearly as thrilling.”

“Hardly. I tried to figure out how to get the
TV working, again, and once again failed miserably.”

She smiled to herself. “Are you hungry?”

“I could eat,” he said.

“I’ll order out,” Dahlia said.

He stood, allowing her to finish typing
things into the pad by the door before wrapping his arms around her
waist and kissing her neck.

“You know, you’re overly affectionate today.”
She couldn’t stop herself from tensing, tilted her head away from
him.

He smiled. “Maybe those endorphins are
messing with my head.”

“Oh, don’t go all gooey on me.” She turned to
face him. “I’ve come to rely on you as a sparring partner. You
won’t be nearly as entertaining if you’re all love struck.”

He kissed her forehead. “I just care about
you, Lia. That isn’t a crime.”

“No.” She sighed. “It isn’t a crime.”

“So, then... while we wait...”

She rolled her eyes. “After dinner, maybe. I
didn’t get to shower this morning and I seriously need one.”

“I could come with you.”

“I don’t think so.” She shook her head. “I’ll
be out in ten minutes or so. The food shouldn’t be here before
that.”

Ben nodded, watching her close the bathroom
door behind her. He stood still until the water started running,
and then moved to the plastic container. Glancing at the bathroom
door, he opened the lip, slipped a couple of the pills into the
pocket on the inside of his pant leg, and placed everything back so
it looked exactly as it had been.

* * * *

Independence Day was one of the few truly big
holidays celebrated worldwide. It started a month before the actual
day when the entire town was decorated in purple and white during a
daylong ceremony, which Dahlia hadn’t attended since she had been
in Rose. Then, a week before the day, events started downtown that
put everything except the Patience’s Birthday celebration in late
December to shame. Each year it seemed it would be impossible to
outdo what they had done the year before, and every year they still
managed to accomplish that. This year, outdoing themselves meant
putting lights under the fountain in the town square next to the
government pavilion. Each light made the streams of water that
arched from the center appear purple or white with the light
lasting until the stream hit the pool at the bottom.

The Independence Week parties were known to
last until sunup, and even the Silvers managed to find their ways
down to the festivities. By 22:00, however, Dahlia was ready to
throw in the towel. She found Zoë and Claire, the ones who wouldn’t
be in the center of the crowd like Cassandra and Audrey. Dahlia
hadn’t seen those two since they arrived and she refused to follow
them to the heart of the party.

She touched Zoë’s arm, leaning in to be heard
over the music. “I think I’m going to call it a night.”

Zoë turned to face her. “Seriously?”

“Well, maybe humorously, but I could say it
seriously too.”

“Don’t be a jerk.” Zoë rolled her eyes.

“Sorry. Been a long day.” Dahlia smiled,
saying her final goodbyes, instructing them to convey the goodbyes
to Cassandra and Audrey. No doubt, they had found their way to the
thick of things. Dahlia moved to the coat check. She smiled at the
overly enthusiastic coat check girl, threw her coat over her arm to
put on once she was away from the heaters set up over the square
and took her bag moving over to the tram stop.

She could see the light on in her room from
across the courtyard. She sighed, pressed her card to the pad, and
stepped inside. “You really need to stop just showing up. I’m going
to have a friend over one of these days and then when you show
up—”

“I expected you back earlier,” Ben said.

“I was at the party downtown with my friends.
It’s Independence Week you know.”

“I knew that,” he said. “I thought you
weren’t a party type of girl, though.”

“What gave you that idea?”

“The fact that you told me you aren’t really
into the whole party thing.”

“My friends dragged me along.” Dahlia
shrugged. “Why are you here? You’ve only been gone a day.”

“I missed you,” he said.

“Oh, god.” Dahlia sighed. “Stop it, Ben.”

“I’m allowed my emotions.”

“Well, you get this sickeningly emotional on
me and I’m sending you home.”

“Fine,” he said. “I wanted to see you. Is
that better?”

“Marginally.” Dahlia slid her coat off,
throwing it over the back of the desk chair.

“All right, I wanted to get laid.” He
grinned. “Am I in the ballpark yet?”

She looked at him. “Things not going well at
the camp?”

He frowned. “What?”

“You have another bruise.” She nodded at his
arm.

“I ran into something.” He looked at his
wrist.

“You aren’t that clumsy.” She took his hand,
examining the bruise. “Looks like someone grabbed you.”

He pulled away. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Is it from the same person who cut you?”

“I can hold my own, Lia. Don’t worry yourself
about it.”

She shook her head. “Well, I’m just trying to
figure out if you’re here to see me or looking for a ‘safe
house’.”

“I’m here to see you,” he said. “I’m high up
in the scheme of things over there. I don’t need to run.”

“Well, then, I’m tired tonight, Ben. I’ve had
a long day.”

“Come on now.” Ben looked at her.

She sighed at his persistence. “You’re so
annoying.”

“Then let me make that up to you.”

“Correction, you’re incorrigible.”

“You like it.”

She crossed her arms and looked at him for a
long moment. “Fine. I’m going to wash up.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said.

She smiled. “Didn’t think you were.”

* * * *

The next morning, Ben groaned. “How have you
lived with those damn chimes for twenty years?”

Dahlia stretched and then moved across the
room to turn them off. “Generally by becoming very, very
irritated.”

“You have to work?” He watched her.

She pulled her robe on and then looked at the
weather. “Great, fourteen degrees and rainy. Beautiful.”

“I don’t think that’s an answer to the
question ‘do you have work’.”

“Yeah.” She sighed. “Yes I do. I’m really
tempted just to crawl back in bed though.”

“I would fully support you giving in to that
urge.”

She smiled to herself, pressing another
button.

Ben sighed and looked at the screen on the
window. “Isn’t that your fountain?”

“Yeah, they’re warning about more in-depth
construction.” She pointed at the headline. “You see? Fountain to
Undergo Renovations.”

He looked at it for a moment and then at her.
“How would I be able to tell anything from that?”

“It’s not that hard to figure out.” Dahlia
smiled. “F-O-U-N—foun, like in found—T-A-I...”

She didn’t continue. Ben frowned, shifting on
the bed. “What’s wrong?”

“A-I...” she murmured and then looked at him.
“Have you learned any of your letters?”

He studied her, cautious. “Is this a trick
question?”

She shook her head. “Just a question.”

He paused and then shook his head. “No, not
really.”

“None at all?”

He hesitated. “Not like I had anyone to help
me learn them.”

She released a breath. “Mail.”

He knitted his eyebrows. “I am male.”

“No, mail. M-A-I-L. You spelt it when we met.
If you don’t know your letters, if you’re illiterate, how could you
spell it?”