The Bleeding Crowd (10 page)

Dahlia snorted. “Thanks.”

“You know, that’s not what I meant.” Her
friend waved that away. “Did you sleep okay?”

“Not especially.” Dahlia shook her head. “I’m
thinking of picking up breakfast and then calling in sick. Are you
heading straight to work?”

“Got an early appointment.” Cassandra
nodded.

“Will you let Kristen know I’m not coming in?
You can call me if the ER’s insane, but if not, I’m going back to
bed.”

“Sure.” She put a hand on Dahlia’s forehead
and then her neck.

“My glands aren’t swollen and no fever.”
Dahlia batted her hand away. “I’m just run down.”

“You need to stop working so hard,” Cassandra
said.

“Call me if they really need me, okay?”

* * * *

Back at the men’s camp, Jude looked up as the
door to the barrack opened. He stared at Ben for a long moment and
then released a sigh. “So you’re alive.”

“She’s a good doctor,” Ben said.

“Not what I was talking about.” Jude shook
his head.

“
If she had turned us in, do you think
I’d be here?”

“So.” Jude continued looking at him. “We’ve
got her?”

“All but.” Ben rolled his shoulders.

Jude nodded. “You going to let me see?”

Ben pulled his sleeve up.

“Deep.” Jude examined it.

“Needed stitches.” Ben smiled. “Looked a lot
worse few days ago. She made me wait until I had better use of that
arm.”

“And you insisted on running all the way out
to her before you had someone look at it?”

“It worked didn’t it?” Ben looked at the now
pink skin before letting his sleeve drop.

“Women tend to love helping people,” Jude
agreed. “I think it’s that whole maternal instinct thing they’ve
been trying to squash.”

“Give me two more days and I’ll have her on
board with anything we want her to do,” Ben said.

Jude released another heavy sigh, but didn’t
debate it. “I got one of the lotto numbers from the kids, so I’m
heading out tomorrow night. We’ll see if it’s anyone
important.”

“Hopefully,” Ben said. “We don’t have three
weeks to wait on some janitor.”

“Maybe I could take your approach and turn
them over to our side,” Jude said. “You’re not the only one with
charisma.”

“We could use a janitor’s help, how?”

“You aren’t exactly with a magistrate.”

“She’s a doctor,” Ben said. “There’s always
use for someone who knows how to stitch people up.”

“And leave the stitches in, eh.” Jude nodded
at his arm.

“She said she’d call me back in about a week
after the skin heals some more to take it out.”

“Did she now.”

Ben frowned at Jude’s half-smirk. “What’s
that look for?”

“Nothing. You just got this weird little
smile when you started talking about her calling you back. You
aren’t falling for her, are you?”

“I like her,” Ben said. “She’s generally a
good person. I’m not going all soft and squishy though. I’m not a
woman. I don’t have to fight down my emotions.”

“Just remember, if things go wrong, she’s
most likely the one we’ll have to throw to the wolves.” Jude looked
at the old analog clock on the wall. “Come on. The boys have been
waiting for you to move on with combat training.”

Ben shook his head. “You know just as much
about that as I do at this point.”

“Not in execution,” Jude said. “Besides,
you’re the one who sent Eli to the hospital.”

“I didn’t exactly escape unscathed.” He
touched his arm and winced.

“You aren’t the one in the hospital right
now. Albeit you were at your own ‘doctor,’ but it should help you
with your street cred. No one’s dared mess with us, even with you
gone, since then. Brought at least half a dozen of the younger guys
over.”

Ben nodded. “I just don’t feel much like
fighting right now, Jude.”

“Not like it’s real. It’s just instruction.
Your arm hurt?”

“Not really.” He looked at his arm. “Dahlia
all but forced me to eat some poppy-based something or another. It
makes you not really care about the pain. Makes you a little sleepy
though.”

“Girl who gives you drugs.” Jude smiled. “I
get the look now.”

Ben rolled his eyes. “I’m going to take a
nap.”

“Think you’ll be awake in a couple
hours?”

“Why?”

“Want to know when to rally the troops.”

Ben sighed, climbing up to his bunk. “I’ll be
up before dinner.”

* * * *

“You really are a quick healer.” Dahlia
studied Ben’s arm.

“Always have been,” Ben said.

“I’m going to take out the stitches.” She
rose to begin.

“Whatever you say, Doc.”

“What did I say about calling me Doc?” Dahlia
sent him a look.

“You know you like it,” he said.

“Take off your shirt,” she directed, ignoring
his crooked smile. “Refraining from any juvenile jokes would be
appreciated.”

The smile dropped. “Ruin all my fun, won’t
you?”

“I try.” She turned and then frowned. “What
happened to your side?”

“The scar?”

“No.” She shook her head. “That bruise.”

“Oh.” He looked at the bruise that took up
most of the area on his right ribcage. “We were playing. Rugby,
actually. It can get pretty physical.”

“With your hurt arm?”

“It’s been feeling fine.”

“Are you trying to stay injured?” She shook
her head, turning around to pick up another jar before moving
towards the bed.

“It’s just a game. No one I know has ever
gotten seriously injured from it.”

Dahlia didn’t answer as she opened the
jar.

“What’s that?”

“Arnica,” she said, rubbing it on his side.
“It’ll help it heal more quickly.”

He nodded.

“How old is it?” she asked.

“The bruise?”

“No, your body.” She sent him an unimpressed
look.

“The body, twenty-some years.” He smiled.

She sighed, not taking the bait. “And the
bruise?”

“I don’t know. A few days?”

“You don’t remember when you got it?” Dahlia
asked.

“Two, three days ago, maybe.” He shrugged.
“Why?”

She looked at him and then shook her head.
“Just wondering if I should be worried about broken ribs. If you’ve
made it this far without breathing issues...”

“None whatsoever,” he said.

She ran a hand over his side. “Yeah,
everything seems to be in place.”

“And... arnica?” he tried the word.

“Arnica Montana.” She screwed the jar shut.
“Also known as wolf’s bane. Great for bruises, sprains,
whatever.”

“You have everything, don’t you?”

“I have full run of the herb garden. Plants
used to be the only medicine before Alexandria Fleming came up with
penicillin.”

“Alexander,” Ben corrected without
thinking.

“What?”

“Alexander Fleming,” he said. “I don’t know
many medical facts, but a man discovered penicillin.”

“Right.” Dahlia smiled as if to herself.
“Arm.”

“Fine, don’t believe me.”

“Fine,” she said. “Arm.”

He offered it to her, letting her use the
small bent scissors she had to cut the thread and tweezers to pull
it out. He looked at her to avoid looking at his arm. “Thank you
again, by the way.”

“Hmm?” She didn’t look up from cutting out
the thread.

“For taking care of all this.”

“No problem.” She pulled out the last bit of
thread and wrapped his arm. “It gives me a chance to bone up on all
the first aid stuff. That won’t need to stay wrapped for long.”

“So I’m your test subject,” he said

“You’d better hope not. Most of the test
subjects I’ve had were in med school, and they were cadavers.”

He laughed. “Yeah, I’d want to stay away from
that job.”

“Though I can’t make any promises if you keep
lying to me.”

His face blanched slightly. “What?”

“No way that bruise is two days old.” She
nodded at it.

His forehead creased.

“See how it looks sort of green?” Dahlia
threw away the thread. “That doesn’t happen until the bruise is
well on its way to healing. With a bruise that deep, I would guess
you got that six, seven days ago.”

“Maybe.” Ben shrugged. “I don’t
remember.”

She looked him over. “You’re a good liar.
I’ll have to remember that.”

“What makes you think I’m lying?”

“You’d remember the difference between two
days and six. Now, the real question is, what would you be doing to
get that that would make you feel like you had to lie to me about
it?”

He sighed. “It was another fight, okay?”

“Another one?”

“Yes,” he said. “I know you have your little
‘men are so violent’ issues, so I thought I’d just say it was a
game. I was playing rugby a couple days ago.”

“It gave you that bruise?”

“Doesn’t hurt. I just got flipped.” He
shrugged.

Dahlia pressed her lips together in a narrow
line. “I thought I told you not to do anything to that arm.”

“Why I got flipped,” he said. “I was favoring
my right side.”

“Do you think you can keep from getting into
another fight for the next couple of days, or do I have to start
keeping you here?”

“Fights don’t bother me.”

“So you’d rather keep going until you die, or
at least become paraplegic.”

“I suppose so.” Ben nodded with that engaging
grin.

“You’re infuriating.”

“Well, if I weren’t, I wouldn’t get into
fights, would I?”

Dahlia frowned. “You sound like getting
yourself cut up is something you want.”

“Well, scars give me character.”

She hummed, unconvinced. “Well, sorry to tell
you, but the stuff I put on your arm should reduce the scaring. If
I had known you wanted it, I’d have cut it deeper.”

“No problem.” Ben smiled. “The guy who gave
me that is still in traction, but I’m sure I can get another
sometime.”

“
Are you suggesting that you put
someone in the hospital?”

“One of the older men taught me Krav Maga
years back. Took me under his wing, so to speak.”

“Krav Maga?”

“It’s a hand to hand combat style. One of the
original men knew it, and taught a small group. It’s passed down so
our group sort of has the corner on the market.”

“That’s how you got your arm cut up?”

“It’s how I only got that,” he said. “Other
guy had a knife. I had to deal with my bare hands.”

“So you proceeded to put him in
traction.”

“Nearly broke his neck I think.”

She shook her head. “You must be so
proud.”

“I know you’re being sarcastic, but yes I
am.” He smiled. “It’s not a bad thing to know how to protect
yourself.”

“It’s a bad thing that you have to know how
to defend yourself,” Dahlia said. “Couldn’t you have just hit his
chip?”

“Unwritten rule of the camps, you don’t go
for the groin or chips.”

“But breaking a guy’s neck is okay?”

“I nearly broke his neck,” Ben said.
“Honestly, I think the crack was his... clavicle? That’s the
collarbone, right?”

Dahlia nodded, and then touched her neck.
“Could you break my neck?”

Ben frowned. “Why do you ask?”

“I’m not sure I’m comfortable turning my back
on you if the answer is yes.”

“That’s what the chips are for.” He shrugged.
“You’d just hit it. Anyway, if I were going to try to hurt you, I’d
have done it by now.”

“That’s comforting.” Dahlia frowned, not
reassured.

He smiled. “I’m not going to hurt you,
Lia.”

“So you say.” She sat down, leaning against
the headrest. “Since when have you called me Lia?”

“Well, you don’t seem like a Dolly, and you
don’t like ‘Doc’.” He paused a moment. “Look, if I were harboring
some sort of homicidal urge towards you, which I’m not, killing you
would be a monumentally stupid move for me. Someone comes in and
sees you dead while I’m here? I’m pretty sure I’d be completely
screwed even if your death hadn’t been my fault.

Dahlia nodded and then laughed.

“What?” He frowned, sliding up to sit next to
her.

“You could always suggest that it was some
sexual exploit gone wrong.”

“I don’t know.” Ben looked her over. “You
don’t seem like the kinky type.”

“Well, you never know with the quiet ones,”
Dahlia said.

“You talk too much to be called a quiet
one.”

“You’re a bit of an ass sometimes, you know
that?”

“You’re sort of a bitch sometimes, so we work
well together.”

Her eyes dropped to his chest. “You know,
I’ve been putting together a list of herbs I’m sure you could grow
at the camp. I know you can’t read it, but if you had someone plant
them—”

“Lia?”

“Yeah?” she cut off her rambling.

He looked at her for a long moment.

“What?”

“Are you sure you don’t want to have sex with
me?”

Her cheeks flushed. “I told you—”

“Dahlia.” He stood. “You’re an attractive
woman. I like you. You chose me, so obviously you don’t find me
repulsive. I don’t understand why you have such an aversion to the
idea of us having sex.”

“Then?” She crossed her arms. “I didn’t see a
reason to want a man to have sex with.”

“And now?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Now...” She released a breath. “Because
you’re nice. Because I like being with you.”

“I don’t see that as a detriment to the act
of having sex.”

“I like you as a person, Ben. It might,
might, even be bordering on a friendship. Sex releases hormones
that make you feel attached to a person. Combine those hormones
with this misguided affection I have for you? I’d become much too
attached. I mean, at this point I’m too attached, I should have
switched you out already, but I like talking to you and hate the
whole choosing ceremony thing. If I became even more attached I’d
have no choice but to send you away.”