The Bleeding Crowd (22 page)

She tried to find the right word.
“Monogamous?”

Jack smiled and seemed to find that funny. “I
suppose.”

“Well then, no.”

“So you aren’t...anything.”

Uncertain what he meant, she hesitated. “I
feel like I’m not really following this conversation...but then
again, that’s been a pretty common occurrence of late. Anything
what?”

“Like...” Jack paused, continued again
slowly, “Like, anything more than normal friends.”

“Not sure you could even call us friends.”
Dahlia gave a derisive laugh. “Why do you want to know?”

“I was just wondering. You were out in the
woods alone...”

“He has a habit of following me around.”

Jack nodded, looking more or less pleased.
“Almost there.”

* * * *

After the third of the younger boys had
disappeared into the forest, Ben got up. The sound of them
shuffling in a grove of trees just outside a clearing was easy
enough to follow. He stood behind them, looking over their heads
into the clearing. A still pool with running water on either side
sat in the middle, illuminated by the moon.

Ben coughed, making the boys jump. “Go back
to camp.”

“But...” one protested.

He gave them a look that left no room for
argument. They might not have been from his camp, but he was still
in charge. He waited for them to leave before moving out of the
clearing.

Dahlia jumped. “Mother of...you know, I
really shouldn’t be surprised. Every time I try to wash... Should I
just send you a bulletin?”

“You don’t need to. You’re always washing.”
Ben crossed his arm. “I didn’t even know you were here. I followed
the mass migration of camp fifteen year olds.”

“What?” She frowned.

“Didn’t you see the group of younger guys out
there using you washing up for a peep show?”

Her face didn’t change.

He shook his head. “You really need to be
more aware of your surroundings.”

“I need to start getting used to people
caring what I look like naked.” She moved towards the bank, the
water dropping below her waist and then knees as she got closer to
shore. “Toss me my towel, won’t you?”

He held it out. “Where’d you get a
towel?”

“Paul’s apparently a master cat burglar.”
Dahlia took the towel and wiped herself off. “We have clothes,
towels, soap...do you want to wash up? You could use it.”

He crossed his arms. “Trying to get me to
take my clothes off.”

“You’ve uncovered my cunning plan.” She
tossed the towel back at him and picked up the clothes. “Don’t
flatter yourself. Shirt off, maybe. Anything below that really
isn’t the most attractive part of a man.”

He didn’t respond, watching her pull the
clothes on. “It isn’t green.”

“What?” She looked up.

“Your shirt. It isn’t green. It’s what,
black?”

“Blue.” She pulled it on. “Apparently a
legislator went camping recently.”

He looked at her, watching her tie the shirt
around her waist, the neckline reaching relatively low on her
chest. “You look good in it.”

She looked at him cautiously. “Thank
you.”

“I mean...” He shook his head. “If we need to
sneak in anywhere, you being dressed as a legislator is going to
help.”

“How does that arise from I ‘look good in
it’?” Dahlia frowned.

He pulled off his shirt. “You have soap?”

She handed him the bar, before crossing her
arms. “I’m starting to think you have a pathological need to act
like a jackass.”

“It’s what I was supposed to do, wasn’t it?”
Ben took the soap, took off his pants, and jumped into the water,
swimming out deeper before she could respond.

* * * *

The cooking fire burned low, but was still
more than visible in the growing darkness. Dahlia stood back in the
darkness, watching for a long moment. If circumstances had been
different, it could have been a peaceful place—like the small grove
of trees all the girls had used to play in while still in
Silver.

Of course, the men around shattered that
illusion. Only men, it seemed. Des was nowhere to be seen, and
Heather... Dahlia’s eyes swept the clearing. Off on the far side,
Heather’s distinctly feminine shape was just visible, sitting on a
cushioned stump someone had fashioned into a chair.

Not far off, some of the younger men grouped
together, whispering. She suspected any woman fascinated them.

Dahlia allowed herself to smile, moving along
the tree line outside the camp, before cutting towards the stump.
She took the brush Heather held. “Let me.”

“You’re going to brush my hair?” Her sister
twisted to look at her.

“I won’t hurt you.” Dahlia smiled. “I used to
do it for all the girls in my dorm back in Rose.”

Heather smiled a little sadly and turned back
to face front. “Right, you actually had a normal school life.”

She began to brush gently. “You made it
through most of the Rose curriculum, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” Heather responded, “but for most of
it I was trying to convince myself that I wasn’t attracted to
girls. Des and I actually met while we were in Rose, you know.”

Dahlia only hesitated a moment. “Were
you...doing whatever, in school then?”

“We had this, instant connection,” Heather
said. “That was fun to try to ignore. No matter what we did, we
just couldn’t seem to stay away from each other. We managed to stay
together when they sent us away.”

She nodded, beginning to try to work the
brush through the knots in Heather’s shoulder-length hair. “Can’t
say I ever even thought about lesbians while I lived in the
dorms.”

“It seems most people don’t.”

“
Then again...” Dahlia laughed to
herself. “I didn’t consider a lot of things before I ended up here.
It’s been sort of a crash course in alternative
thought.”

“I imagine the whole thing with Ben isn’t
making things easier.” Heather turned her head slightly to look at
Dahlia.

“There is no ‘thing’ with Ben,” Dahlia
insisted. “Hold still.”

“Are you sure?”

“Really.” She frowned, pushing Heather’s head
back forward. “I’m sick of that being all anyone asks about. Can we
talk about something else?”

“But that’s what sisters do, isn’t it? Talk
about relationships?”

“Maybe in your neck of the woods.” Dahlia
paused, trying to work a particularly difficult knot out with her
fingers. “I’m still a little foggy about the whole relationship
concept.”

“What about it?”

“All the levels, mostly,” Dahlia said. “But
that’s not important.” She worked out another knot. Then, she began
twirling the waves around her finger to make curls. “You have
beautiful hair. I think you should grow it out.”

“We’re not allowed to,” Heather said.
“Nothing that hit the shoulders.”

“Well, I’m not allowed to wear blue.” Dahlia
smiled at her. “You know, we’re not that different in size. I bet
some of the clothes Paul stole would fit you. If you want to get
out of that ugly grey thing.”

“What if I like this color?” Heather raised
an eyebrow.

“I don’t think it’s physically possible to
like that color,” Dahlia answered.

“Heather smiled and stood. “Do you want me to
plait your hair for you? It’ll keep it out of your face.”

Dahlia nodded, handing Heather the brush and
switching places. “Do you think...?”

Heather started to work the brush through her
hair. “Think what?”

She clicked her tongue once. “I don’t even
know what I was going to say. I...What it like was, I suppose.”

“What was what like?”

“Living at the camps?” Dahlia said.

“Can’t say it’s one of the more positive
memories of my life.”

“I’ve never seen a camp,” she said.

Heather snorted. “You wouldn’t like it.”

“How would you know that?”

“You don’t like roughing it when it’s green
and beautiful around you. Why would you like it when you’re stuck
inside a concrete box that’s filled with mostly mud, maybe a little
grass? It’s not a pretty place. It’s not even a mildly attractive
place.”

“Why did you stay then?”

“What?”

“You could have left, couldn’t you?” Her head
jerked back slightly as Heather pulled.

“Sorry.”

Dahlia waved it away. “Couldn’t you? You were
a guard, not a prisoner.”

“Where would I have gone?” Heather gave
another mildly hard yank, then started braiding Dahlia’s hair. “The
only job I could possible get was the one I had. It’s how you
sidestep the entire issue of homosexuality, after all. You put us
out of sight.”

She considered the words. “And the men?”

“What about them?”

“There are male homosexuals I take it?”

Heather hesitated. “Yes.”

“What do
they
do then?” Dahlia asked.
“I mean, lesbians are supposed to be mannish, so homosexual males
would arguably be womanish then, wouldn’t they? That would
theoretically make them better than regular men.”

“You’d think that’s how it would work.”

“Think,” she repeated. “So that’s not how it
works?”

“No,” Heather said. “That’s not how it
works.”

Silence fell between them for a moment.

“Are you going to tell me how it does, then?”
Dahlia finally asked.

“You don’t need to think about it.”

“Think about what?”

“The camps.”

“But I want to know.”

Silence.

“Heather, if you don’t tell me, I’m just
going to ask someone else.”

“Do you have a hair tie?” Heather asked.

Dahlia slid one off her wrist. “Please tell
me.”

Her sister sighed. “They go the way of any
other undesirable man.”

“Undesirable?”

“Well, they’re useless, really.” Heather
wrapped the tie around the end of the braid, smoothing Dahlia’s
hair down across her scalp a final time before stepping back. “Men
are used for recreation and procreation. If they don’t want to have
sex with women, they’re useless.”

“So what happens to useless people? Useless
men.”

“I supposed the politically correct term is
that they’re ‘disposed of’.”

“They’re, ‘disposed of’,” Dahlia repeated.
She turned when no answer came. “I don’t think I know what that
means.”

“I don’t think you want to know what that
means,” Heather said.

Dahlia just looked at her.

“
Well, they, all undesirables, they
mysteriously have heart attacks it seems.” Heather sighed. “It
nearly seems that being gay gives men some genetic
defect.”

“Homosexual, you mean.”

“Gay, homosexual.” Heather shook her head.
“Same basic meaning.”

“Why would being a homosexual give you a
higher chance of heart attacks?”

“Personally, I believe it has a lot more to
do with the sprigs of oleander that mysteriously go missing when
there’s a new group locked up than anything to do with
genetics.”

“They...” Dahlia’s face tried to work out the
meaning behind Heather’s words, she blanched. “Oleander?”

“They grow it near the edge of camp.” Heather
nodded. “Would make just about any execution look like a health
problem, wouldn’t you think?”

Dahlia’s eyes widened. “They kill them?”

“Politically it’s a brilliant move,” Heather
said. “The fewer men in the camps, the fewer who can revolt. They
need most of the men because most of you turn twenty at some point.
Low mortality rate. However, the ones they can’t use
anyway...There’s more danger in keeping them than profit. Not to
mention how much it saves on food and housing.”

“That’s awful.”

“That’s life at the camps. As a whole you
might have maintained a tenuous hold on peace, but everything comes
from some very ruthless, but brilliant politicking.”

Dahlia shook her head. “If people knew—”

“They’d ignore it,” Heather responded. “If
there’s nothing else you all are good at, it’s dealing with willful
ignorance.”

“That can’t be true,” Dahlia insisted,
appalled.

“You all got to this point somehow, and it
wasn’t by asking a bunch of questions.”

Releasing a breath, Dahlia rose. “Come look
at the clothes. You can’t be happy in...that. It’s filthy if
nothing else.”

“You want to dress me?” Heather crossed her
arms.

“Yeah.” She smiled at her older sister.
“It’ll be a complete flash back to my life-size doll I had when I
was little to dress up.”

“You realize I’m not a doll.”

“Well, at this point I figured.”

Heather smiled. “I suppose. Lead the
way.”

* * * *

“Should I assume you’re the one who gave her
that?” Jack sat down next to Dahlia.

She looked up, following his line of sight to
Heather. “Oh, yeah. I thought she’d like to get out of grey. I hope
you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.”

“I think maroon suits her.”

“She looks hot.” Jack nodded. “It’s too bad
she’s not into men.”

“She’s ‘married’ apparently,” Dahlia tried
out the word.

Jack nodded again. “Both would work against
me, I’m sure.”

Dahlia smiled. “You want to have sex with my
sister?”

“Honestly, it’s been a good few months since
I’ve seen any woman, so all of you look pretty good at this
point.”

“That’s only because you haven’t had anyone
to compare to us,” Dahlia said.

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“It’s what you said.” She reclined
half-way.

Jack smiled looking between Dahlia and
Heather. “You’re sisters?”

“So Heather tells me.”

“I suppose there’s a resemblance there.”

“I think there would be more so if she grew
her hair out.” Dahlia watched Heather join Des off to one side of
the camp. “She’s actually quite pretty, don’t you think.”

“Well, I said the resemblance was there,
didn’t I?”

Dahlia looked at him, shook her head with a
bit of a smile. “Do you think we’ll be moving again soon?”