The Bleeding Crowd (14 page)

Dahlia gave her a slight smile. “Ah, maybe
so.”

“Completely so.” Cassandra looked
pleased.

Dahlia’s nose crinkled as something
implacably arid and sharp hit it. She frowned. “Do you smell
that?”

“Smell what?” Cassandra looked puzzled.

Dahlia inhaled deeply, trying to place the
smell. “That. It almost smells like a fireplace.”

Cassandra inhaled and scanned the sky. “I
don’t see any smoke. There are no sirens. Maybe there’s a
controlled burn somewhere?”

“Maybe.”

* * * *

In her office, Dahlia woke with a start,
almost falling off the stool on which she sat. Zoë paused in the
doorway.

“Were you asleep?”

“Apparently.” Dahlia rubbed her eyes. “Didn’t
sleep well last night.”

“That’s too bad.”

She nodded. “What do you need?”

“Something weird is happening outside,” Zoë
said

“Weird?” Dahlia frowned.

“Yeah, I came to get you to see it.”

“What’s going on?”

“Come on.” Zoë motioned for her to
follow.

Everyone in the hospital who had the ability
to move under their own power seemed to have the same idea.
Onlookers packed every window with the light only getting through
every once in a while above the heads of the shorter window
viewers. Those without a perch streamed towards the doorways,
forcing them back.

Dahlia let Zoë lead her through the slowly
moving crowd. Zoë caught her arm as they made it to the front door
and pulled her through onto the street.

Cassandra spotted them, motioning them to
where she stood and pointed. “You might have been right about the
smoke.”

“A fire?” Dahlia scanned the horizon.

“More than that,” Cassandra said.

Dahlia spotted it. In the distance there was
not one cloud of smoke but several columns of brown-black smoke
spaced out along the horizon as if something was containing the
fire—fires—making smoke columns.

“What do you think it is?” someone in the
crowd asked nobody in particular.

Nobody answered.

“Have you seen Audrey?” Zoë glanced away from
the smoke pillars to look at Cassandra.

“She’s with a sick White, I think.” Cassandra
stared at them and frowned. She studied Dahlia. “You have creases
on your face.”

Dahlia rubbed her forehead blindly. “Yeah, I
fell asleep at my desk.”

“You should go home.”

“I think bigger things are happening than me
dealing with insomnia.” She looked at the smoke as it slowly lost
its column and mushroomed to join the other columns making the sky
vaguely yellow.

Sirens started somewhere down the hill, and
the rescue squad stopped as close as it could get before the crowds
became too thick to maneuver through. A woman in red swung out the
door of the truck with a megaphone.

“Everyone, attention please. If everyone
could please clear the street. There has been a gas line break off
in the forest, which is feeding the fires outside of town. We need
to get emergency services out there. Please clear the street.”

“There’s another one.” A woman standing at
one of the hospital windows called, pointing further along the
horizon.

“Please,” the woman with the megaphone
pleaded. “We need to clear the way. Please move off the
street.”

The other women in red started to herd the
crowd into the surrounding buildings.

“How can there be that many line breaks?”
Cassandra looked over her shoulder at the worker who was slowly
moving the crowd toward the hospital.

“Seismic activity,” the worker answered.

Zoë frowned. “I didn’t feel a quake.”

“Small one. Epicenter was closer to the
pipeline than here.”

“Won’t the gas explode?” another woman
asked.

“There’s no pressure building up. We just
need to stop it from setting the entire forest on fire.”

Slowly the crowd disbursed, shuffling and
jostling back to work. Dahlia moved away from the crowd, taking a
deep breath before finding a less crowded window on the right side
of the building. The smoke was still rising, and the sky looked
more and more jaundiced as it continued. They weren’t going to have
those under control any time soon.

Chapter Nine

By the time Dahlia and her friends got off
work the air felt thick to move through. Though it appeared the
fires had been put out at last, the wind had blown towards town and
left the smoke hanging in the air. Dahlia pulled her shirt over her
mouth to make breathing easier, allowing Cassandra to lead her to
the trolley and then to the villa across from Dahlia’s. Cassandra
swiped herself into the similarly generic room in which she lived,
dropping her bag by the door and turning on the television without
a pause.

“You think they’re covering the fires?” she
said.

“I think they would qualify that as news.”
Dahlia sat on the end of Cassandra’s bed.

“Do you believe the seismic activity story? I
didn’t feel anything.”

“I don’t think there was one.” She shook her
head. “I called the geology people. As of eleven, no earthquake
reading. Five hours later however...”

Cassandra just frowned at her.

“They lied to us,” Dahlia said. “Eleven
hundred—government says there is an earthquake, anyone with a
seismograph says differently. Sixteen hundred—completely different
story. All of a sudden a supposed small quake was graphed at nine
thirty off the edge of town.”

“So, what?” Cassandra frowned at her.
“There’s some vast government conspiracy happening?”

“They’re not telling us something. Gas
doesn’t generally cause smoke when it burns.”

“Well, it was surrounded by trees...”

“Then how would the columns have been so
contained? There was wind today. It would have spread. Towards town
more than likely since it’s where the smoke’s settled. Something
was acting as a firebreak. Several things were acting as
firebreaks.”

Cassandra studied her. “So, what was
happening then?”

Pausing, Dahlia deciding to lie, “I don’t
know, but whatever it is, someone’s trying to cover it up.”

* * * *

Dahlia’s eyes blinked open for a reason she
couldn’t place. Everything seemed quiet in her room. She blinked,
confused, only catching a glance of a shadow before a hand was over
her mouth. A scream died in her throat.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” a distinctly
female voice whispered. “Just stay quiet and I’ll explain. Nod if
you understand.”

Dahlia nodded stiffly, her shoulders still
too tense to allow much movement. The hand lifted. She reached for
the lights.

“Don’t.” Something clicked in the darkness
sounding oddly ominous.

Dahlia froze without knowing why, slowing
pulling her hand back to her chest. “Who are you?”

“Heather,” the voice answered. “They sent me
to find you.”

She frowned. “Who sent you to find me?”

“Ben,” Heather said. “Well, technically Jude,
but I don’t think you know him so that would mean less to you.
Anyway, it would have been Ben if he weren’t still sulking.”

Dahlia released a breath. “I already told Ben
I don’t want anything to do with this. I don’t know how you got in
here, but I think you should—”

“They’re going to be dead in twenty-four
hours if you don’t help,” Heather cut her off. “Ben’s going to be
dead if you don’t help.”

Dahlia paused, focusing on the shadow in the
dark room. “Is he hurt?”

“Not yet.”

“Then why do you think—?”

“He’s being held captive,” Heather
interjected.

“That’s what the camps are for, aren’t they?
To hold men captive?”

“Well, the men there don’t have death
sentences hanging over their heads for the most part.”

“Death sentences?” She frowned. “Capital
punishment hasn’t been used since—”

“They took out the last batch of useless men
a couple weeks ago,” Heather said. “Though I suppose that isn’t
punishment so to speak since they didn’t do anything wrong. It’s
more like being put down. Having an incurable communicable disease
isn’t exactly a crime.”

Dahlia didn’t answer.

“It’s up to you,” Heather continued after a
beat. “They need a doctor and you’re the only one they could think
of asking. You don’t have to come, but they’ll be dead within a day
if you don’t.”

Dahlia remained silent for another moment.
“Why do they need a doctor?”

“They need their chips out. With those in,
everyone’s going to be tracked down before they get out of
town.”

“They’d need a surgeon.” Dahlia shook her
head. “I haven’t done anything like surgery since med school. Then,
trying to pull them out from right under their clavicles? I’d give
it a twenty percent chance of success.”

“A twenty percent chance of living is better
than zero.”

She released a tense breath. “I don’t even
know you. Why should I trust you?”

“Same reason I’m trusting you.” Heather
didn’t hesitate. “I don’t want them to die, and you’re my only
chance to save them. I’m yours.”

“Who are you?”

“Heather.”

“No, who...?” She sighed and gave up before
completing the question. “How did you get in here?”

“I had a key,” Heather said. “It’s how we get
men in and out of the building.”

Dahlia paused. “You’re a lesbian?”

“Don’t hold it against me.”

“So, what’s in this for you?”

“The same thing as the men,” Heather said.
“Same thing as you, really. Freedom.”

“Freedom,” Dahlia repeated. “That word’s been
thrown around a lot lately.”

The woman hesitated. “Ben didn’t want us to
come to you, if it makes any difference. He said that you had made
your choice. That you didn’t want to be involved. He would have
just taken his chances rather than have us come ask you for
help.”

Dahlia released a deep breath, leaning
towards the pad. She paused. “Can I turn on the lights yet? I need
to get my bag if I’m going to help anyone, and it would be very
hard to find it in the dark.”

She could hear the smile in Heather’s voice.
“You’re coming then?”

“I suppose I don’t have much of a choice, do
I?” Dahlia frowned at the woman. “The light?”

“Go ahead.”

She pressed the pad, turning on the light,
blinking as her eyes adjusted. A dark-haired woman studied her
carefully. Something black in Heather’s right hand dropped to her
side.

Dahlia climbed out of bed moving to her bag
by the door. “What’s that?”

“What’s what?”

“That thing you’re holding.”

“Oh.” Heather looked at her right hand,
slipping the black thing away into something at her waist. “It’s a
gun. You know, just in case.”

“Gun,” Dahlia repeated, trying to place the
word.

“It’s...” Heather stopped. “I’ll explain
later. Can we go?”

Dahlia stood, frowning.

“What’s wrong?”

Dahlia set the bag down on her bed. “A bunch
of things were missing this morning... I forgot to bring anything
home with me. I don’t have nearly enough to try to perform
surgery.”

“We’re out of luck then?” Disappointment
filled the woman’s face.

She shook her head. “I’d just need to go to
the hospital to get some things.”

“Let’s do it then.” Heather moved to the
door.

“It’s not like I can just walk in there this
time of night... and everyone’s still partying downtown more than
likely.”

“I can get you there if you can get in,”
Heather said.

Dahlia frowned. “How?”

“Same way I got here.”

“How was that?”

Heather smiled and motioned for Dahlia to
follow.

“Can I get dressed first?”

Heather sighed. “Fine, but be quick about
it.”

Dahlia changed without a second thought about
Heather being in the room, grabbing the first green sweater she
came across and some jeans. She hesitated. “I take it we will be
walking a lot.”

“Probably.” Heather nodded.

“Okay.” She pulled on some comfortable shoes
and grabbed her coat. “Let’s do this before I come to my
senses.”

Heather nodded, motioning for her to follow.
Dahlia moved as quietly as possible, doing her best to feel as
comfortable moving in the halls as she had been earlier that day.
The woman went toward one of the doors at the end of the hall, a
storage closet, Dahlia had always thought, and pulled a small
silver key off her belt. With a quick turn, Heather had the door
open, ushering Dahlia in before shutting and locking the door
behind them.

It was pitch black for a moment before
Heather found the light switch. Dahlia frowned at the strangely
orange light, but looked at the room. It was not much bigger than a
closet, nothing but a set of stairs against the far wall leading
down to a floor she didn’t know the building had. None of the
villas had basements. Heather went first, walking downstairs with
practiced ease. Dahlia moved with far less skill, wavering on the
thin, narrow steps without a railing. The stone was dark and
vaguely orange from the strange lights. The air smelled damp and
dripping sounds echoed from somewhere down the tunnel that extended
from where the stairs leveled off. Dahlia couldn’t see any exit.
The tunnel appeared to curve, leaving them in a small, grey, rather
claustrophobic space.

Dahlia slipped on her coat to fight the cold
in the tunnel. “Where are we?”

“Under the villa,” Heather said. “There are
tunnels all under the city.”

They passed the dripping sound and Dahlia saw
a wet spot on the ceiling leaking into the tunnel to form a small
puddle.

“Watch your step.” Heather hugged the other
wall. “It normally isn’t this wet, but they tried filling the damn
fountain again. Every time they do that they basically put us
underwater.”

Dahlia frowned. “What fountain? Our
fountain?”

“The broken one. In your courtyard I think,”
Heather said. “The pipes have always pumped everything in here, but
of course they won’t tell maintenance about the tunnels, so they
can’t fix it, but they keep trying.”