The Bleeding Crowd (17 page)

Heather nodded.

“If you’ll excuse me.” Dahlia nodded and
moved away.

Ben watched her, opened his mouth, and then
shut it. “I need to talk to Jude.”

Heather nodded, watching him move in the
opposite direction.

Chapter Ten

Ben obviously not only did not want to talk
to Dahlia and instead avoided her. The rest of the group introduced
themselves, but he stayed by himself.

They were a small group, the two guards,
Heather and Desiree—Des for short—Dahlia, Ben and the six other
men. With Ben not paying attention, the man who had been at the
gate, Jude, had taken over keeping the younger men in line. For the
most part, those five seemed to be a strange combination. The
youngest, Zechariah—Zechs—and Abel, were brothers, neither of which
could have been very far into their teen years, and then David,
Cyrus, and Isaac, who seemed to have nothing in common with each
other, other than the fact that they followed Ben with what almost
seemed to be a religious fervor made up the rest.

Jude was difficult to figure out. He appeared
to be the de facto leader of the group taking care of the
day-to-day matters of the group, but was more than willing to let
Ben retain a sort of figurehead status. He seemed diplomatic. His
entire demeanor was non-confrontational, almost shockingly
different from Ben’s physicality. If Ben had shaken her views on
men, Jude blew them out of the water all together. Of course, he
could have just been an exception to a generally true rule. He did
seem to lie outside the boundaries of everything else she had grown
to expect. His skin was darker than that normally found in the
area. It wasn’t a far north city, but he looked like he would have
been suited to be at least a couple thousand kilometers south of
them with darkly tanned skin and near black eyes. What had made him
end up in their climate was anybody’s guess...though she had never
been to the camps. Maybe they were kept more diverse than the
towns. Their viability to the climate would hardly be as much of an
issue.

“Can we stop?” Dahlia shook her foot, hopping
awkwardly, trying to get a rock out of her shoe.

“Again?” Isaac frowned.

“What can I say?” Dahlia bent, sliding the
shoe off. “I never was the outdoorsy type. Really not much of an
exerciser in general. Haven’t walked this much in years.”

“Great.” Des rolled her eyes. “I’m going to
say it right now; I’m not going to be the one to carry her if she
wears out.”

“I wouldn’t let you carry me.” She pulled on
her shoe .

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know.” Dahlia crossed her arms.
“Maybe that I wouldn’t let you carry me?”

Des opened her mouth, but Heather cut her
off. “Okay, girls, let’s calm down a little.”

“I say we find the nearest town and drop her
off.” Des leaned against a tree. “I mean, what’s really going to
happen? You can fix a sprained ankle, Heath.”

“She’s a fully trained doctor,” Heather said.
“She can help us. I kiss boo-boos.”

Dahlia sat down heavily. “You’re a
doctor?”

“Not technically.” Heather shook her head. “I
was taken off track at fourteen.”

“Right.” Dahlia nodded, putting her legs out
in front of her to stretch.

“Then there are those of us who were never
put on a track to begin with,” Ben mumbled.

“That’s the reason you don’t know how to
read, isn’t it?” Dahlia didn’t look at him.

“Jesus Christ, will you let that go?”

“I tried to let all of it go,” she snapped.
“Yet here I am.”

“I didn’t ask you to come.”

“Yeah, because sentencing yourself and six
other men to death is so much nobler.”

“Oh, so you’re the noble one here.”

“I just did what I thought was right.”

“So did I,” Ben said.

“You were just being an idiot.”

“Seems to be my constant state according to
you.”

“Well, when the shoe fits—”

“Dahlia, enough,” Heather snapped.

“Excuse me?” Dahlia stared at her.

“We’re all exhausted and on edge. It’s not
going to help anything if we all start biting each others’ heads
off.”

“Especially with you two bickering like an
old married couple.” Des sat down.

Ben’s head snapped in Des’ direction.

Dahlia frowned at Des. “Married?”

“We’ll explain the concept later.” Heather
shook her head. “Do you think you can keep going a little longer?
We’ll stop to sleep soon. They’re going to be running a perimeter
search looking for us. We have to get as far away as possible to
avoid that.”

Dahlia sighed, but got up stiffly. “Where are
we going anyway? Do we actually have a plan?”

“We’re heading east, and we’re about thirty
miles from the coast—” Jude said.

“That’s a unit of measurement, I’m assuming,”
Dahlia interjected.

“Fifty kilometers,” Heather said. “None of
the guys think in metric.”

“They think in terms where you measure things
with your feet,” Dahlia quipped.

“It’s a standardized unit of measurement,”
Ben said.

She ignored him. “So we’re fifty kilometers
from the coast. Any reason that’s where we’re headed? I imagine
being on a beach would make us easier to spot.”

“It’s where we can catch a transport that
will head to New Zealand,” Heather said. “We should be there within
a day or two at a fair pace.”

“And at an unfair pace?” Isaac glanced at
Dahlia out of the corner of his eye.

Dahlia ignored him. “We’re going to New
Zealand?”

“Well it’s where everything is,” Jude
said.

“So then you’d think we’d want to stay away
from New Zealand.”

“A fish rots from the head,” Jude said. “We
can’t fight everyone, so...”

“The fact that you’ve all escaped isn’t
enough. You need a full coup?”

“Do you want to live in the forest the rest
of your life?” Des looked at her.

“No...” Dahlia began.

“Then there isn’t much of a choice, is
there?”

Dahlia tried to think of a new plan,
something that seemed less suicidal. She couldn’t think of
anything. They had nowhere to go, nowhere they could realistically
hide. Not with men in tow. She tilted her head back and met Des’
eyes all the same. “I don’t see how this is the better choice. What
are we going to do? Just waltz in there and say, ‘Hi, we have an
issue with the way things are run, mind if we take over?’ Anyway,
how are we even going to get there? It’s not like we can walk into
the terminal and get a ticket to New Zealand.”

“If they aren’t looking for you yet, you can
get tickets,” Heather said. “If they are...we stow away.”

“Sounds delightful.” Dahlia looked at
herself. “Do I still need to pretend to be a lesbian or can I take
off this shirt?”

No one answered so Dahlia pulled it off.

Abel studied her. “Do all women wear clothes
like that?”

“Like what?” Dahlia looked herself over.

“I don’t think he’s ever seen something
formfitting before.” Heather glanced at her.

“It’s a sweater.”

“Men are men.” Heather shrugged, motioning
for them to continue.

“I suppose I should be glad I’m not in a
miniskirt.”

“We all should be.” Ben didn’t look at her.
“You’re having a hard enough time keeping up wearing pants.”

“Yeah, like you’ve ever been thankful for me
keeping pants on,” she snapped.

“What can I say? You were generally more
distractible when the clothes started coming off.”

Dahlia’s fists clenched. “You know what? You
can go to hell.”

“I’m already there, sweetheart.” Ben didn’t
turn to face her.

“I...” she started. “You know what? To hell
with you. To hell with all of you.” She turned on her heel and
started in another direction.

“Where are you going?” Ben called after
her.

She didn’t stop.

“Ben.” Jude looked at him

Ben kept walking.

Heather sighed. “I’ll go get her.”

Even with the head start, Heather had no
trouble catching her.

Dahlia started before she had a chance to
speak. “I could have let him die, you know. I should have let him
die. Then I’d be back home in my room with central heating rather
than in the middle of this damn forest running around on a fool’s
mission.”

Heather released a breath. “You know he
didn’t mean anything by what he said.”

“How would you know?”

“I’ve known him for years now.” She moved in
front Dahlia to make her stop moving. “He acts, well, like a
bastard sometimes. That’s how he deals with just about any emotion
he doesn’t want or doesn’t knows how to deal with. It’s how most of
the men are.”

“Wonderful personality trait.” Dahlia
stopped, but didn’t look at her.

“He really does care about you.”

“Oh, it seems like it.”

“He cares enough to be hurt that you wouldn’t
help him when he asked.”

“He never asked,” she said. “You did.”

“Earlier.”

She shook her head. “That had nothing to do
with me. That was them needing someone on the outside to help.”

“They had Des and me,” Heather said. “We
weren’t completely outside, but we didn’t need you. Ben wasn’t even
supposed to contact you again.”

“That’s supposed to mean something?”

“If you know Ben it does.”

“Well, obviously I don’t then,” Dahlia said.
“Not that that should be a surprise.”

“We could get by if you wanted to leave,”
Heather said, “but we really could use your help, Lia.”

Dahlia frowned, finally looking at her.
“Lia?”

“People call you Lia, don’t they?”

“Yes.” Dahlia nodded. “How would you know
that?”

Heather paused. “I knew you when you were
younger.”

“When?”

“You probably don’t remember. I was in Rose
before you went Silver.”

Dahlia just continued to look at her.

Heather sighed. “You see...I’m your
sister.”

Dahlia couldn’t find a way to answer that,
the silence stretched on awkwardly.

“I used to check in on you every so often,”
Heather continued. “Have you never been to the pedigree room?”

“Can’t say I’ve ever had an interest in
genealogy.”

“Our mother was a fan of plant names,”
Heather said. “I went to the room a couple of times before I was
shipped off. There are several other sisters around, Laurel, Holly,
Ivy...we’re the youngest, though. I’ve never been able to track
down the others.”

“But...” Dahlia paused unsure what to say.
“So, we’re related.”

Heather nodded. “You haven’t noticed that we
sort of look alike? Brown hair, light eyes...thin features...”

“I suppose that would happen, wouldn’t it?
Some sort of genetic similarity...”

“Family resemblance.”

Dahlia frowned.

“Never mind,” Heather said. “We need to get
back to the group.”

Dahlia shook her head.

“Come on, Lia. Forget about Ben. The rest of
us need you and, right now, you need us.”

Dahlia paused, but released a breath and
nodded, letting Heather lead the way back. “You knew me when I was
a baby, then?”

“Well, I had my own life, but when I was
wondering around in the tunnels...I’ve run across you before.
Checked up on you every once in a while.”

Dahlia looked at her and then looked straight
ahead. “That’s more than a little creepy.”

“Well, I was shipped off because of my sexual
preference. You were the most like-me-person around so you were the
easiest to live vicariously through.”

“I was the non-lesbian you?”

“There’s nothing wrong with liking women, you
know.”

Dahlia didn’t respond. “Am I related to
anyone else in this ill-fated little group?”

“No.” Heather shook her head. “Well, Des is
my spouse, but officially that means nothing, so...”

“Spouse?”

“We’ll explain the whole marriage idea to you
when we don’t have to keep moving.” Heather smiled to herself. “It
means we’re committed to each other, platonically, romantically,
and sexually. We’re monogamous.”

“You only have sex with each other?”

“Yeah.” Heather nodded.

“How does that work?”

“What work?”

“Sex,” Dahlia said. “Well, not just sex, but
your...I mean, you’re missing some of the logistical
necessities.”

“That’s a discussion for some other time,”
Heather said.

* * * *

The first night sleeping outside was the
hardest for Dahlia. If she hadn’t been drained from the stress and
forced march she wouldn’t have slept at all. The nights that
followed weren’t any more comfortable, but at least she became more
familiar with it. In the twenty years she had lived, she had spent
a grand total of one night sleeping outside before joining this
group, and that had been on an astronomy field trip far too long
ago.

After a couple nights, she remembered why she
hadn’t thought of that trip for years. It was a simple case of
psychological repression. Some women found going out and sleeping
in the woods enjoyable. They called it ‘communing with nature’ or
what not, but Dahlia had hated every moment of it. From the moment
they had pitched the tent to the moment they were safely inside the
van that had taken them home, she had been miserable.

Of course, now, by some cruel trick of
nature, she spent nights on end without even so much as a tent or
any nearby source of running water to allow her to wash her face
let alone anything else. Her hair felt disgusting, heavy, getting
to the point where it could stay in place just from the holding
power of the oil in it. As soon as they found a river, a pond, or
even a puddle at this point, she was going to find a way to wash
her hair and the rest of her. None of them smelled very attractive
after three full days of walking.

In an attempt to skirt any guards looking for
them, they had taken a curved path, sending them in the wrong
direction. Now they were trying to make up the lost distance and
find their way back to the coast with some sense of certainty. That
coupled with Dahlia’s lack of athletic stamina had stretched what
should have been a day and a half of walking into one that lasted
far longer than anyone wanted.