The Bleeding Crowd (24 page)

Someone had taken her from the camp and
brought her to the town. Heather probably. She and Des were the
only ones who could have come near the place safely, and Dahlia
sincerely doubted Des would have agreed to let anyone go to town,
let alone agreed to carry someone there.

Dahlia slid to the end of the bed, looking at
the clothes she had with her. She was too weak to leave, but after
another night maybe she could. They’d find out who she was soon
enough, and it would be about as smart to stay there as it would be
to take her chances trying to find the others out in the woods.

Something silver slid out from the pockets of
her jeans. Dahlia picked it up. Heather had left her key, the one
to the tunnels, on a thin silver chain. Dahlia hooked the chain
around her neck and lay down. Perhaps the key would work here
too.

* * * *

Heather stirred, trying to place what had
woken her. Her eyes fell on a shadow just outside the circle of the
campfire. She sighed, slipping out of her sleeping bag and grabbing
a bottle from the medical bag.

Ben turned the key card over in his hands,
running his finger over the slightly raised lettering on the front
which spelt out
Dahlia
in capital letters, not that he could
see the word in the dark.

“You need to get some sleep.” Heather sat
next to him. “We don’t know what she had. If you wear yourself
down, you might get the same thing.”

“And?” He didn’t look up.

“We can’t take you to a hospital.”

“I’ve been sick before.”

“Ben,” Heather’s voice grew stern. “If you
want to mope, fine. You have a right to your emotions. It isn’t
your right to try to get yourself killed though. Not when you have
so many people looking to you for help.”

“What are we doing, anyway?” Ben snapped.
“There are a few dozen of us here. We don’t know where we could get
any more men, or even if we could. It’s good she’s gone. She didn’t
want to be here in the first place. Now she doesn’t have to
be.”

“She didn’t get sick on purpose.”

Ben didn’t respond.

“She had plenty of chances to leave,” Heather
continued. “She chose to stay here. Chose to be here with you.”

Ben scoffed. “It wasn’t about me.”

“Are you really that thick?”

Ben finally looked at her. “Excuse me?”

“Why else would she have come, Ben?” Heather
shook his head. “It wasn’t because she wants to help men in
general. She loves you. You love her too, but both of you are too
goddamn stubborn to admit it.”

Ben paused. “Even if that were true, what
does it matter now?”

“You’ve got to have some goal for after this
is over.”

“Yeah,” Ben said. “A quick death and being
buried in something other than an unmarked mass grave.

Heather sighed, holding out the bottle.
“Here.”

Ben looked at it. “Poison?”

“Sleeping pills.”

He didn’t move to take the bottle.

“Take two.”

He finally took it, popping two in his mouth
and swallowing them without water.

“Get back to bed.” She nodded to the
camp.

“I will soon.”

Heather stood. “Oh, and Ben, when you see her
again, don’t let your pride get in the way, all right? You both
made mistakes.”

“I didn’t sleep with her best friend.”

“When did you ever have that chance? Or
better, how would you know?” The question hung in the air without
an answer. “You got along at one point. That wasn’t all because you
were trying to use her, was it?”

Ben stood. “I’m going to bed. Doctor’s
orders.”

* * * *

In the hospital, Dahlia waited for the
orderly to turn off the light and shut the door before reopening
her eyes. She checked the chart at the end of the bed and then
moved to put on her clothes. Finished, she took a deep breath and
slipped through the door into the hall. The only light came from
the nurses’ station down the hall. Dahlia considered for a moment
and then headed towards it slowly. The nurses were elsewhere,
letting her grab an unattended lab coat and medical bag. She
apologized briefly to the owner of the supplies, then shrugged on
the coat, and started off.

Using the ID attached to the lapel, she moved
into the elevator at the end of the hall, the elevator starting
without her needing to push a button. The doors opened in the
morgue. She shivered, went to press the button again, and then
paused. A stack of keycards sat on the desk closest to the
elevator. Dahlia moved towards them. On one side there was a stack
of blank cards, the other a stack had yet to be deactivated.

Dahlia frowned, but grabbed a good portion of
the stack, stuffing them in the pocket of the coat and heading for
the nearest exit. She slipped out the side door of the hospital and
stopped near a streetlight to examine the cards. She found ones she
could use and remain relatively innocuous, tossing the rest in the
trashcan with the lab coat. She was dressed as a legislator, not a
doctor. She found the train station, bought a ticket with one of
the stolen cards and got on the next train north, dropping card in
the gap between the train and the platform.

* * * *

The days walking had worn on them. Even Ben
had stopped scouting so far ahead, just couldn’t bring himself to
care. He scanned the forest down the slope and turned towards the
group. A glint of something caught his eye. Something pale,
metallic, like silver or a mirror.

He glanced over his shoulder to the group
behind. They were still a ways back. Slowly he moved closer, doing
his best to maintain control on the sharp decline. A campsite. A
woman eating something from a can. A silver can. Recognition hit
him hard and almost knocked the wind out of him.

“Dahlia?”

“Mother of...” She spun, released a breath,
and stared at him for a long moment before speaking. “Ben?”

He nodded, looking at the campsite. “What are
you...? How are you...?” He didn’t finish either thought.

Dahlia rose to her feet. “I’ve been waiting
for you guys to show up. If none of you did soon, I would have had
to move. I was hoping...it’s a big forest up here. I’ve been
working on trying to listen better.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you,” she repeated. “I couldn’t
very well stay in town. I suppose I should thank one of you for
ending up at a hospital.”

Ben paused and shrugged. “You were our
doctor. You couldn’t treat yourself.”

Dahlia looked behind him. “Where’s everyone
else?”

“Back up the hill.” He glanced over his
shoulder. “Everyone’s tired.”

“Walking days and days does that to you,” she
said. “Any reason you’re looking at me like you’ve seen a
ghost.”

“I...wasn’t expecting to see you.”

“No?”

“I left you dying in town.”

“You thought I was dead?”

“Maybe,” Ben said. “Or that you chose to
stay.”

“Stay where?” She stared at him.

“In town.”

“You that eager to get rid of me?” She set
the can down.

“Just, they’re your people.”

She rolled her eyes. “Right. You aren’t glad
to see me?”

He hesitated. “It’s safer in town.”

“Not when they find out who I am.” Dahlia
shook her head.

“Safer than with us.”

“I doubt it,” she said.

He didn’t respond. He had no idea what to
say.

She sighed. “You told me you liked me once,
you realize. I’d think you’d be happy to see me. Was that all a
lie?”

He stayed in place, unable to speak.

Something seemed to shift, seemed somehow
wrong. Dahlia just smiled. “Just admit it.”

“Admit what?”

“What you’ve been keeping yourself from
saying.”

Something hit him hard in the back. He
jerked.

“Get up already.” Des’ voice broke through
his thoughts; she kicked him between the shoulder blades again. “If
you don’t get your ass moving soon, I swear to God I’m leaving
without you.”

“Jesus fucking...” Ben rubbed his hand over
his face.

“Up.” She kicked him in the side.

“I’m up, I’m up.” Ben pushed himself to
sitting, holding his hands in front of him.

Heather looked at Des. “Get the others
up.”

Des returned Heather’s look, holding her gaze
before conceding something and moving off.

“Guess we know who wears the pants in your
relationship.” Ben rolled his shoulders.

“Do you need more sleeping pills?” Heather
looked him over. “I thought since you’d stopped wandering around at
night...”

“I had a dream about your sister.” He pushed
himself to his feet.

Heather frowned. “Will asking what kind of
dream it was mentally scar me in any way?”

“No, sadly,” Ben said.

“What was it about, then?”

“Does it matter?”

“Dreams tend to matter,” Heather said. “At
least a little bit. Some have even been prophetic.”

“I’ve always found that hard to believe.”

“Well, you never know—”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he
interjected.

“You’re the one who brought it up.”

“It’s nothing important,” he said. “She’s
probably getting settled in the town where I dropped her off and is
much happier there than she ever was out here with us, anyway.”

“You don‘t always need to play the martyr,
you know.” Heather shook her head. “Look at the men here. They’ll
keep doing what they’re doing, whether or not you sacrifice your
happiness for them.”

“I’m getting something to eat.” Ben brushed
himself off and started away without waiting for a reply.

Des reappeared, watching Ben storm through
camp. “Please tell me he’s not going to be pissy again today. We
just finally got semi-good mood Ben.”

“He’s as lovesick as ever,” Heather
sighed.

Chapter Fourteen

Dahlia slowly came to, reluctantly poking her
head out of the cocoon of blankets she had made. Everything was
damp. A rain shower had passed, coming off the ocean and blowing
away in a hurry, but not fast enough to save her from being left
with soaked blankets that were the only thing to protect her from
muddy ground. At least it wasn’t winter. That was the only thought
she could hold on to that kept her from feeling completely
miserable.

It even smelled wet. She’d make a fire to dry
out a little, but she couldn’t until the wood dried. Even if she
could get it to catch, as wet as it was, it would have given off
enough smoke to let the entire forest know where she was.

At last she pulled herself out of the
blankets and hung them on a branch in the vain hope that they would
dry. She looked around and then stripped down, hanging her wet
clothes on another branch. Everything in the bags she had with her
was equally damp. She found the waterproof jacket she had gotten
and laid it on the ground, giving her some protection from the
water. She sat on the fleece and pulled out the first bag of food
she came across, sparing a glance at the label to see it was trail
mix before opening it.

The sun was starting to filter down through
the trees. Hopefully things would dry soon enough.

“Dahlia?”

Startled, she twisted at the waist.
“Jack?”

He looked her over, his face working as if he
was trying to come to terms with what he was saw. “What are you
doing?”

“Waiting for you all.” She found a dress that
was less damp than the others and pulled it on over her head. A
strange feeling of success bubbled through her. “From what I could
tell on a map, this was the most likely place for you to come
heading north. If not, it was a good enough place for me to wait. I
planned to circle and look for you all.”

“You’re all right?” Jack stepped closer to
her.

“Fine.” She nodded.

“You were really sick.”

“I probably have let myself get pneumonia out
here too, but yeah, I’m fine.” She stood. “Amazing what broad-range
antibiotics do.”

Jack moved nearer to her and touched her
cheek. “I’m glad we get to see you again. We were all really
worried about you.”

The rest of the group filtered through the
trees.

“We’re a little spread out,” Jack explained.
“Some of the younger guys are run down.”

“Understandable,” Dahlia said.

“Dahlia!” The men all reacted differently,
but the general appearance of shock was the same.

“What are you doing here?” Ben said.

She turned her head and met Ben’s eyes. He
looked as frozen in place as she felt.

She swallowed. “You said were going to
Wellington . I had to wait somewhere.”

“Why didn’t you stay...?” he began.

“
Stay where?”

“In town,” he said, his voice oddly
quiet.

Dahlia looked around, suddenly aware of the
audience watching them. She cleared her throat, tried to look more
relaxed. “Well, I got up to Wellington using about seventeen stolen
identities, so after I dropped another couple on a train heading to
Auckland, I headed out here to wait.”

Ben frowned. “What?”

“When I woke up in the hospital, I realized
that they thought I was a legislator because of my shirt. Luckily
my card was gone, which I assume one of you did...”

Heather raised her hand. “Glad to see
you.”

“Thanks, likewise.” Dahlia smiled, and the
frozen feeling began to fade as she told the story. “Anyway, since
our names are only parceled out one at a time, I knew if I said who
I was they’d find out where I was from, and that would be bad. So I
pretended to have amnesia, which made them think that the fever had
caused brain damage—”

“It wasn’t high enough,” Heather said.

“I know that,” she said. “Based on the chart
they had on me, it was high, very high, but it wouldn’t be likely
to cause lasting brain damage.”

“What did you have?”

“Bacterial infection. Probably picked it up
from one of the ponds, I imagine. Standing water or something.”