The Bleeding Crowd (15 page)

“You said there are these tunnels. All
over... under town?”

“Wherever men need to be,” Heather said. “I
can get us all the way down the hill this way. We shouldn’t come
out far from the hospital.”

“Shouldn’t,” Dahlia repeated, slowing
down.

“Well, I handle the villas on the other side
of town,” Heather said. “This is the first time I’ve ever been over
here.”

“You didn’t think you should have told me
that before?”

“Does it matter?”

“Based on the seriousness of the situation,
yes, I think it does.”

“I found you, didn’t I?” Heather twisted to
look at her.

Dahlia pressed her lips together, but didn’t
argue.

They made a turn, and then another, and
another until Dahlia had lost all sense of direction. Heather,
however, seemed unfazed, leading them at last to another set of
thin, narrow, stairs without a railing, which led up into a dark
space. Heather led the way, turning on the lights at the top before
Dahlia had reached her. She opened a door with the same key as she
had before and brought them out into another hallway before ducking
out onto the street.

Dahlia took a deep breath as the air grew
fresher, taking a moment just to enjoy being out of the tunnel
before attempting to orient herself.

“We’re near the hospital, yeah?” Heather
looked at her.

“Yeah...” Dahlia turned in a slow circle,
taking in the shadowy buildings from the bizarre angle. She nodded.
“Yeah, we’re near the school, but that isn’t far from the
hospital.”

“Do you know a back road that will get you
there?”

Dahlia paused. “Well, I’ve never taken one,
but I know the general direction, I bet I could find my way there
off the main road. How much time do we have?”

“Not a lot.”

She bit her bottom lip, considering it all
for a moment. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going?”

“Where do you think?” Dahlia snapped. “I have
an excuse to be out this late in this part of town. I doubt you
could say the same thing. I’ll be back soon.”

Heather frowned, but let her go.

Dahlia moved off with a quick pace, taking a
deep breath to calm the writhing in her stomach before stepping out
onto the street. The road was all but deserted. The mild roar from
the party, still in full swing downtown, echoed up the hill at
times, but it was otherwise silent. She hurried, trying to burn off
some of her nerves before she got to the hospital, but reached it
before she had much of a chance.

Mackenzie, the attending medic, looked up
from where she sat at the desk, her feet resting on top as she read
something on her tablet. “Hey, Lia. Are you working this
morning?”

“No,” Dahlia said. “I was on my way home from
downtown and got paged.”

“Strange.” Mackenzie stretched and then
stood. “Nothing’s happened here all night as far as I know, not
even party-fueled mishaps, and I’d like to think I would know since
I’m the attending.”

Dahlia nodded, checking her comm unit as if
looking at the page again. “Well, I’m just going to run back to my
office while I’m here and see if there’s anyone there who sent
it.”

“I don’t think there is.” Mackenzie
yawned.

“Shouldn’t be is the point I think.” Dahlia
forced a smiled. “Be right back.”

Mackenzie nodded.

Dahlia didn’t waste any more time. Sweat
formed along her hairline. She probably looked much too pale, but
apparently, she looked normal enough to get by... at least with the
sleep-deprived state most of them suffered. Everything appeared
much the same, as if nothing of importance was happening. Dahlia
supposed nothing was in anyone else’s life. The hospital was clean,
still smelled like the same astringent cleaning supplies as it did
every day, and, after the damp moldy smell of the tunnels, even the
harsh chemicals were a step up.

She picked up her pace, the wet soles of her
shoes squeaking against the linoleum. She was probably tracking
dirt from the tunnels and streets across the hospital, but she
didn’t have time to worry about the extra work she was leaving for
the janitorial staff. A less than sterile hospital was
unacceptable, but that was someone else’s problem.

She reached her office and pressed the key
card to the door, waiting for the beep before yanking it open. She
didn’t bother to shut it fully before moving to the supply closet.
She grabbed whatever was there—ointments, bandages, syringes,
pills—fitting what she could into the bag before looking at the
room, releasing a shaky breath, and snapping the bag closed.

She paused. She could leave now. Go home.
Send out a page to herself that would make anyone think that she
had been called there by some glitch in the computer system. She
could go home and more than likely convince herself that that night
had just been one long, realistic, strange dream—perhaps even the
past few months. What did she really care what happened to the men?
Not like she would see them whether they were alive or dead. Yet
she’d have to live with that nagging feeling that she had let
people die. Even if they were men. Even though it was very possible
they deserved whatever happened to them.

The seconds ticked by and her indecisiveness
didn’t do much to help the uneasy feeling in her stomach. She’d
have to move one way or another no matter what. She had two
options. Standing in her office with a bag full of haphazardly
packed supplies until morning wasn’t one of them. She picked up the
bag, doing her best to hold onto it without feeling like her arm
was sliding out of its socket. She forced her shoulders straight,
to look like she had on entry, said a cursory goodbye to Mackenzie,
blamed a computer glitch, and left.

As soon as she was out of sight, she hefted
the bag higher with a wince, cradling it between her arms,
attempting to share the weight equally between her shoulders. As
fast as possible, she worked her way back to where she had left
Heather.

Once there, Dahlia dropped the bag with a
thud, her arms too tired to worry about hurting what was
inside.

Heather jumped, spinning on her heel. She
looked at Dahlia for a moment. “I didn’t think you were coming
back.”

“Believe me, I considered going home.”

“I figured,” Heather said.

“Yet you’re still here.”

“It was wait here or go back to a bunch of
men doomed to die,” Heather said. “I figured waiting for someone
who very possibly wasn’t coming was a marginally better
choice.”

Dahlia nodded, not surprised. “Grab that. My
arms are about to fall off.”

Heather holstered her gun and picked up the
bag with a grunt. “What do you have in this thing? Bricks?”

“Everything I could fit that might be of any
possible help,” Dahlia said. “Can we keep moving?”

“I’m not a pack horse.” Heather shifted the
bag.

Dahlia just looked at her.

Heather sighed in resignation. “This
way.”

Rather than going back to the tunnels,
Heather led Dahlia to the line of trees just outside of town.

“It’s really handy that you all decided to
plant trees around every town. I know it’s to hide the camps, but
it makes sneaking around a lot easier.”

Frowning, Dahlia stared at the trees. “These
weren’t always here?”

“They might have been,” Heather shrugged.
“All I know is every camp I’ve ever worked at has been buried
behind a forest, and I sincerely doubt the entire world only
consisted of forests before we had something to do with it.”

Dahlia nodded, not feeling any urge to ask
Heather about her past. The noise from the party downtown grew
louder. Dahlia slowed.

“Are we going towards downtown?”

“That general direction.” Heather switched
the bag off between her hands. “There’s a tunnel at the back of the
government pavilion that will take us to where the men are being
held.”

“All but every woman living within fifty
kilometers of town is in the square downtown right now. How do you
propose we get anywhere near the government pavilion?”

“Sometimes it’s easier to get around without
being noticed in the middle of a crowd than it is trying to be a
shadow in the night.”

Dahlia studied her. “What color are you
wearing?”

“You didn’t notice?”

“I was a little preoccupied when we had
light.”

“It’s grey,” Heather said.

“You mean like silver?”

“Less pretty,” Heather said stonily.

“But... like the color kids wear.”

“Well, you don’t seem to consider us much
better than kids. You ship us off early enough no matter what our
intellect because you need people who won’t be emotionally
manipulated by men. You teach us and treat us like other women, but
then you put us on a level below you, which you have done
remarkably well.”

“Maybe that’s just biology.” Dahlia trailed
behind her.

“You really want to upset the woman with the
gun?”

“I’m not sure I know what a gun does,” she
said. “Anyway, if that’s some sort of threat I’m not that scared.
You need me more than I need you right now.”

“I could turn you in as a sympathizer.”

“Then all the men would die which is why you
came to me in the first place, isn’t it?”

“You know you’re just a little too smart for
your own good.”

“That’s why you came to me, isn’t it? Because
I know what I’m doing?” Dahlia dodged a branch. “Anyway, I didn’t
say the hierarchy was from biology, just that you have no proof
that there isn’t a difference between lesbians and other women. I
couldn’t prove there is, but it’s a little premature to come to a
conclusion.”

“You want to set up a scientific study about
it?”

“I doubt we have the time at the moment.”

“I hope that was sarcasm.”

Dahlia didn’t respond. “Are you all unhappy
over there?”

“What?”

“People generally only revolt when they’re
unhappy. Seems there’s a fair share of you at least.”

“I suppose there’s enough,” Heather said
simply, waving for Dahlia to be quiet as they reached the first
pools of light outside downtown.

Dahlia let Heather lead. Even with the heavy
bag, the guard moved faster than Dahlia unburdened. For not knowing
the side of town they had been on, Heather seemed to have gotten
her bearings and avoided low hanging branches and dips in the
ground, which Dahlia hit more often than not.

Heather slowed as they hit paved road,
settling into a more casual pace. They moved at a rapid pace, but
not enough to arouse suspicion. The women in the square with the
party in full swing didn’t give Dahlia and the guard a second
glance as they traveled along the edge of the crowd.

When Heather neared the government pavilion,
she slipped just beyond the reach of the lights and led Dahlia
ahead. She checked for anyone from the square and then ducked into
the alleyway. Unlocking the door at the side, she led Dahlia into
the marble hall at the side of the government pavilion’s ground
floor before finding a keyhole barely visible in what looked to be
just another seam in the marble wall. Heather used the key as a
knob, turning it and pulling so the wall swung outward. She waved
for Dahlia to enter before pulling the key out and drawing the
handle on the inside of the door to swing it shut before switching
on the light.

Dahlia focused on Heather. “All of you can
just run around town like this?”

“Convenient, no?” Heather moved to the
stairs.

“You’d think this would be monitored
somehow.”

“There are cameras.” Heather nodded. “Lucky
for us all of them were blown out in a ‘power surge’ today. They
won’t be up and running for another couple hours.”

“You’re sure about that?” Dahlia frowned.

“Jude blew them with an electromagnetic
device which we conveniently forgot to take from him before
throwing him in his cell. They won’t go back online until he’s gone
or the battery runs down enough so that it can’t affect the control
center. We’re on emergency backup for the lights.”

“Is that why they’re orange?”

“No, they’re always like that.” Heather shook
her head. “It’s just the only reason they’re still on.”

“And Jude? He’s Ben’s friend.”

“Computer savant.” Heather nodded.

“He mentioned a friend, I think.” Dahlia
subconsciously refrained from using Ben’s name again. “Not by name,
of course, but...”

Heather didn’t comment as Dahlia followed
her.

Looking around the tunnel, she struggled to
figure out where they were. “Are we going down?”

“Prison’s under quite a bit of ground,”
Heather said.

“Is it safe?”

“You’ve never been in a subway?”

Dahlia shook her head.

“People have worked underground for centuries
now. The prison was made pretty much as soon as Patience took
power. It’s where they stuck all the men who got the idea to revolt
in their heads. Ironically it’s used for the same thing today.”

“How far underground?”

“I don’t know. Tenth of a mile maybe.”

Dahlia just stared at her.

“Oh, right. I’ve been around the guys too
long.” Heather shook her head. “Um, 160, 170 meters.”

Dahlia nodded, looking at the ceiling. “How
far are we from wherever we’re going, from the prison?”

“Another five minutes maybe,” Heather
replied, setting the medical bag down.

“So, why are we stopping here?”

Heather grabbed a piece of cloth from her
belt near the gun and tossed it to Dahlia. “Put that on. We’re
going to have to deal with the pants you have on.”

“What is it?” Dahlia unfurled the cloth to
reveal a baggy polo shirt.

“Greens aren’t allowed down here, you need to
be in grey. It’s probably a little big, but we figured too big was
better than too small.” Heather considered her for a moment. “Make
sure you keep your hair tucked into the collar. Guards aren’t
allowed to have hair past the shoulder.”