Chapter Nine

By the time Dahlia and her friends got off work the air felt thick to move through. Though it appeared the fires had been put out at last, the wind had blown towards town and left the smoke hanging in the air. Dahlia pulled her shirt over her mouth to make breathing easier, allowing Cassandra to lead her to the trolley and then to the villa across from Dahlia’s. Cassandra swiped herself into the similarly generic room in which she lived, dropping her bag by the door and turning on the television without a pause.

“You think they’re covering the fires?” she said.

“I think they would qualify that as news.” Dahlia sat on the end of Cassandra’s bed.

“Do you believe the seismic activity story? I didn’t feel anything.”

“I don’t think there was one.” She shook her head. “I called the geology people. As of eleven, no earthquake reading. Five hours later however...”

Cassandra just frowned at her.

“They lied to us,” Dahlia said. “Eleven hundred—government says there is an earthquake, anyone with a seismograph says differently. Sixteen hundred—completely different story. All of a sudden a supposed small quake was graphed at nine thirty off the edge of town.”

“So, what?” Cassandra frowned at her. “There’s some vast government conspiracy happening?”

“They’re not telling us something. Gas doesn’t generally cause smoke when it burns.”

“Well, it was surrounded by trees...”

“Then how would the columns have been so contained? There was wind today. It would have spread. Towards town more than likely since it’s where the smoke’s settled. Something was acting as a firebreak. Several things were acting as firebreaks.”

Cassandra studied her. “So, what was happening then?”

Pausing, Dahlia deciding to lie, “I don’t know, but whatever it is, someone’s trying to cover it up.”

* * * *

Dahlia’s eyes blinked open for a reason she couldn’t place. Everything seemed quiet in her room. She blinked, confused, only catching a glance of a shadow before a hand was over her mouth. A scream died in her throat.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” a distinctly female voice whispered. “Just stay quiet and I’ll explain. Nod if you understand.”

Dahlia nodded stiffly, her shoulders still too tense to allow much movement. The hand lifted. She reached for the lights.

“Don’t.” Something clicked in the darkness sounding oddly ominous.

Dahlia froze without knowing why, slowing pulling her hand back to her chest. “Who are you?”

“Heather,” the voice answered. “They sent me to find you.”

She frowned. “Who sent you to find me?”

“Ben,” Heather said. “Well, technically Jude, but I don’t think you know him so that would mean less to you. Anyway, it would have been Ben if he weren’t still sulking.”

Dahlia released a breath. “I already told Ben I don’t want anything to do with this. I don’t know how you got in here, but I think you should—”

“They’re going to be dead in twenty-four hours if you don’t help,” Heather cut her off. “Ben’s going to be dead if you don’t help.”

Dahlia paused, focusing on the shadow in the dark room. “Is he hurt?”

“Not yet.”

“Then why do you think—?”

“He’s being held captive,” Heather interjected.

“That’s what the camps are for, aren’t they? To hold men captive?”

“Well, the men there don’t have death sentences hanging over their heads for the most part.”

“Death sentences?” She frowned. “Capital punishment hasn’t been used since—”

“They took out the last batch of useless men a couple weeks ago,” Heather said. “Though I suppose that isn’t punishment so to speak since they didn’t do anything wrong. It’s more like being put down. Having an incurable communicable disease isn’t exactly a crime.”

Dahlia didn’t answer.

“It’s up to you,” Heather continued after a beat. “They need a doctor and you’re the only one they could think of asking. You don’t have to come, but they’ll be dead within a day if you don’t.”

Dahlia remained silent for another moment. “Why do they need a doctor?”

“They need their chips out. With those in, everyone’s going to be tracked down before they get out of town.”

“They’d need a surgeon.” Dahlia shook her head. “I haven’t done anything like surgery since med school. Then, trying to pull them out from right under their clavicles? I’d give it a twenty percent chance of success.”

“A twenty percent chance of living is better than zero.”

She released a tense breath. “I don’t even know you. Why should I trust you?”

“Same reason I’m trusting you.” Heather didn’t hesitate. “I don’t want them to die, and you’re my only chance to save them. I’m yours.”

“Who are you?”

“Heather.”

“No, who...?” She sighed and gave up before completing the question. “How did you get in here?”

“I had a key,” Heather said. “It’s how we get men in and out of the building.”

Dahlia paused. “You’re a lesbian?”

“Don’t hold it against me.”

“So, what’s in this for you?”

“The same thing as the men,” Heather said. “Same thing as you, really. Freedom.”

“Freedom,” Dahlia repeated. “That word’s been thrown around a lot lately.”

The woman hesitated. “Ben didn’t want us to come to you, if it makes any difference. He said that you had made your choice. That you didn’t want to be involved. He would have just taken his chances rather than have us come ask you for help.”

Dahlia released a deep breath, leaning towards the pad. She paused. “Can I turn on the lights yet? I need to get my bag if I’m going to help anyone, and it would be very hard to find it in the dark.”

She could hear the smile in Heather’s voice. “You’re coming then?”

“I suppose I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” Dahlia frowned at the woman. “The light?”

“Go ahead.”

She pressed the pad, turning on the light, blinking as her eyes adjusted. A dark-haired woman studied her carefully. Something black in Heather’s right hand dropped to her side.

Dahlia climbed out of bed moving to her bag by the door. “What’s that?”

“What’s what?”

“That thing you’re holding.”

“Oh.” Heather looked at her right hand, slipping the black thing away into something at her waist. “It’s a gun. You know, just in case.”

“Gun,” Dahlia repeated, trying to place the word.

“It’s...” Heather stopped. “I’ll explain later. Can we go?”

Dahlia stood, frowning.

“What’s wrong?”

Dahlia set the bag down on her bed. “A bunch of things were missing this morning... I forgot to bring anything home with me. I don’t have nearly enough to try to perform surgery.”

“We’re out of luck then?” Disappointment filled the woman’s face.

She shook her head. “I’d just need to go to the hospital to get some things.”

“Let’s do it then.” Heather moved to the door.

“It’s not like I can just walk in there this time of night... and everyone’s still partying downtown more than likely.”

“I can get you there if you can get in,” Heather said.

Dahlia frowned. “How?”

“Same way I got here.”

“How was that?”

Heather smiled and motioned for Dahlia to follow.

“Can I get dressed first?”

Heather sighed. “Fine, but be quick about it.”

Dahlia changed without a second thought about Heather being in the room, grabbing the first green sweater she came across and some jeans. She hesitated. “I take it we will be walking a lot.”

“Probably.” Heather nodded.

“Okay.” She pulled on some comfortable shoes and grabbed her coat. “Let’s do this before I come to my senses.”

Heather nodded, motioning for her to follow. Dahlia moved as quietly as possible, doing her best to feel as comfortable moving in the halls as she had been earlier that day. The woman went toward one of the doors at the end of the hall, a storage closet, Dahlia had always thought, and pulled a small silver key off her belt. With a quick turn, Heather had the door open, ushering Dahlia in before shutting and locking the door behind them.

It was pitch black for a moment before Heather found the light switch. Dahlia frowned at the strangely orange light, but looked at the room. It was not much bigger than a closet, nothing but a set of stairs against the far wall leading down to a floor she didn’t know the building had. None of the villas had basements. Heather went first, walking downstairs with practiced ease. Dahlia moved with far less skill, wavering on the thin, narrow steps without a railing. The stone was dark and vaguely orange from the strange lights. The air smelled damp and dripping sounds echoed from somewhere down the tunnel that extended from where the stairs leveled off. Dahlia couldn’t see any exit. The tunnel appeared to curve, leaving them in a small, grey, rather claustrophobic space.

Dahlia slipped on her coat to fight the cold in the tunnel. “Where are we?”

“Under the villa,” Heather said. “There are tunnels all under the city.”

They passed the dripping sound and Dahlia saw a wet spot on the ceiling leaking into the tunnel to form a small puddle.

“Watch your step.” Heather hugged the other wall. “It normally isn’t this wet, but they tried filling the damn fountain again. Every time they do that they basically put us underwater.”

Dahlia frowned. “What fountain? Our fountain?”

“The broken one. In your courtyard I think,” Heather said. “The pipes have always pumped everything in here, but of course they won’t tell maintenance about the tunnels, so they can’t fix it, but they keep trying.”

“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.”

Dahlia frowned. “You think I look like a lesbian?”

“I don’t know.” Heather crossed her arms. “What does a lesbian look like?”

Dahlia paused, looking at Heather in the orange light. She was about average height, maybe a couple centimeters taller than Dahlia, not much more. Heather’s shoulders were wider, better defined than hers, but not beyond the realms of femininity. She probably would have had the same physique if she had spent more time trying to tone up. Considering it all, Heather was pretty with her dark hair coming to her shoulders with a little curl to it and delicate features. Dahlia sensed an odd sort of familiarity to her now that she could study her.

“Do I know you from somewhere?”

“I’d doubt it.”

Heather waited for her to pull the shirt on before inspecting her. Carefully Heather tucked a loose strand of hair back into the collar before stepping back and nodding. “Keep your head down, don’t move too much so your hair stays in place and don’t say anything. Just follow me. The shirt should help people not notice you, but if you draw attention, well, the rest of you isn’t exactly in uniform.”

Dahlia nodded with apprehension, stopping as she felt her hair try to slide free from the collar.

Waiting for another beat before picking up the bag, Heather rolled her shoulder and then followed another turn in the tunnels. At the end of that tunnel, a dull white light shone. As they neared it, Dahlia could see that it came from a cavernous room that opened up from the end of the tunnel with little, if any, finesse. The floor dropped off sharply at the end of the tunnel and a short set of stairs led to the level of the room. A number of other tunnels branched out from there as if they were spokes in a wheel, but the main purpose of the room seemed to be to house the pyramidal shape in the middle with a crescent cylindrical box at the top.

“It’s the hub,” Heather whispered, nodding at the top of the pyramid. “That’s the control center that got blown.”

Dahlia nodded.

Heather moved to the floor at the bottom of the stairs, waved at the woman sitting at the desk on top of the pyramid and moved off to their left at a diagonal to reach another tunnel. This one wasn’t plain like the other; instead it was wide with a line of cells separated by metal bars. The lights weren’t orange, but still buzzed oddly. The entire place appeared Spartan, not at all up to her standards.

Another woman with dark blond hair caught Heather as soon as they were out of sight from the pyramid. “What took so long? That her?”

“Yes,” Heather said, walking to one of the cells. There were only half a dozen men in there, sitting on the floor.

A man stood, moving to the bars. “Do you have her?”

Heather urged Dahlia forward.

She surveyed the small group. Two younger men were huddled in the back corner looking too terrified to focus on anything that was happening. Three more had risen when she and Heather appeared and watched her with a mix of apprehension or hope. Ben was leaning against the wall to the right, staring at something just in front of his shoes.

Dahlia took a breath before looking at the man at the bars. “So, what am I supposed to do?”

“Abel’s got a gash on his leg.” One of the standing men pointed to a man at the bars.

“It’s doing fine.” The man at the bars waved the other away. “We need our chips out.”

Dahlia nodded. “I’m not a surgeon. I have no idea how those chips are placed. It’s about as likely that I’d accidentally kill you as help you.”

“Fifty percent chance of getting out of here is better than what we’re looking at now,” another man said.

Dahlia looked at Heather. “How long do we have?”

Heather shrugged. “It’s about three or four hours until sunrise. Best case scenario, we’re long gone before that.”

Dahlia bit the inside of her cheek. “I suppose, if you’re all willing to take the risk... I don’t think we need standard operating procedure... no one’s planning on suing for wrongful death I take it.”

“Who would prosecute you for us?” Ben spoke at last.

She looked at him, watching his eyes slide away at once. “All right then. Who wants to be the guinea pig and go first?”

Nobody moved. All of the men lowered their eyes as if afraid she would single them out.

“I will.” Ben pushed himself off the wall and met her eyes in challenge. “You’re a good enough doctor from what I’ve seen.”

Pulling her shoulders back, Dahlia nodded and turned to Heather. “Okay. I need a blanket and some water and get them out of there. I can’t very well work through those bars.

Heather nodded for the other guard to get the supplies and opened the cell.

“Can we work in the hall?” Dahlia frowned. “I’m not a fan of willingly stepping into places that someone could lock me in.”

“I’m not going to lock you in.” Heather looked at her.

“It’s just the principle,” Dahlia said.

“They’ll see you if you’re in the hall.” Heather frowned and then sighed. “How about you go in there, but I let you have the key while you’re in there? Is that satisfactory?”

Dahlia nodded, letting Heather pull the door open before taking the key and directing her to place the bag near the bars of the cell. When the other guard returned, she set the water by the bag.

Dahlia knelt and meticulously set some jars near her knees. She looked at Ben, watching him steadfastly avoid her eyes. She looked away.

“Take off your shirt.”

He did so in silence.

She glanced up, her eyes never getting as far as his face before looking away. “Lie down. I’m going to use a mild topical anesthetic to numb the site some. It should help a little, but to be honest, this is probably going to hurt like a bitch.”

“I’ll survive I’m sure.” Ben lay down, staring at the ceiling.

She looked at some of the other men. “Hold onto his shoulders in case he jumps. He mustn’t flinch.”

No one moved, and then everyone took their places, almost ceremoniously, around Ben as if he had offered to be a sacrifice to some archaic higher power. Dahlia poured a little water on her hands, rubbing them together before pouring a bit of rubbing alcohol on her palms and the scalpel. She strove to pull her nerves together enough to keep her hands from shaking.

“Everything all right?” the other guard asked.

“Just, gathering myself,” she said, taking a deep breath.

“We’re—”

Heather placed a hand on the other guard’s shoulder, hushing her. Dahlia heard the woman shift uneasily, but nothing else made a sound. She released her breath slowly and shifted the scalpel in her hand before touching the edge of the scar with her other hand. She pressed her finger directly next to where the scar started. Ben tensed some, but then forced himself to relax. Bringing the scalpel down to just above the scar, she waited for her hand to still before cutting. At the first stroke, he jerked, but remained silent, the vein in his neck protruding some as his friends held his body still.

She cut as far as the scar went, trying to ignore the look of pain on his face, wiping away the pooling blood. Not far below the skin, she saw something thin, silver, and metallic. She studied it for a second, not wanting to wait too long while he bled.

She looked at Heather. “Is there a light?”

Heather shook her head.

Dahlia released a breath and wiped the blood away again, trying to keep the site clean before the blood could congeal. With care, she used the flat edge of the scalpel to press the top of the chip down a little to see its broad edge. Ben inhaled sharply, his head jerking back, but he didn’t complain.

“It doesn’t look too deep.” Dahlia wiped again. “I mean, it’s deep, but not—”

Ben let out a ragged breath.

She looked at his face. His eyes were closed, scrunched up so that his forehead and the corner of his eyes were deeply wrinkled. He was slowly blanching, all the color draining out of his face. It looked scary. Painful.

She picked up the tweezers, rubbing them with alcohol quickly before turning back to him. “All I can really do is pull. It’ll hurt. Might kill you. I really don’t know.”

He didn’t attempt to answer.

Dahlia wiped once again and slipped the tweezers on either side of the chip, pulling gently. It didn’t move. She released a breath and jerked her hand back.

The chip followed, sliding out roughly.

Ben gave a hoarse yell, the man closest to his head covering his mouth.

Dahlia glanced, just quickly enough to see the sweat coming off his forehead, his skin so pale that it looked green under the buzzing lights. She didn’t ask how he was. She knew more than enough, and, if it was worse than it looked, she really didn’t want to know. Quickly she cleaned the site and bandaged it, trying to staunch the bleeding as quickly as possible. She pressed on the site for longer than needed until she could fight off the feeling of urgency and then sat back on her heels. Ben continued to breathe in ragged gasps.

She nodded the men away from holding him, touching his face gently before freezing. Her hand dropped awkwardly, and she placed her hand on her thigh. “Try to breathe deeply for me.”

Ben swallowed, but forced himself to breathe more slowly.

She paused. “Can you move?”

He stayed still for a long moment before nodding shortly.

“Move your fingers if you can,” she said. “Then your toes.”

He did what she asked in slow motion.

“Is he okay?” one of the younger boys ventured to ask.

“Seems to be.” Dahlia took a needle and pricked his big toe.

He flinched. “What the fuck was that for?”

“Reflexes,” she said. “Don’t move so much; you need your strength.”

“I think I’m doing pretty well considering the circumstances.”

“Well, you aren’t dead, so there’s that,” Dahlia said. “Someone help him sit up.”

“I can do it myself.” He pushed himself up, arm shaking only a little.

Dahlia frowned, but didn’t berate him. “I’d give you pain pills, but they’d make you loopy. I think we should wait until we’re not in mortal danger for that.”

Ben nodded, focusing on the gauze that covered his shoulder.

“If you can lift your arm, you can put your shirt on,” Dahlia said, looking at the other men. “Who’s next?”

By the end of the seven men, Dahlia was pulling out chips within a few minutes. It wasn’t any less painful, but at least it meant less time to suffer. The youngest boy cried. The rest had given the same muffled shouts as Ben, a couple whimpering as they moved away from the blanket.

Dahlia rinsed the scalpel and tweezers, paused a moment, and then packed everything away. She stood and looked at the guards. Heather watched her along with the other guard from the hallway.

“I assume you know a way out of here?”

Heather nodded. “Are we good to go?”

“I suppose.” Dahlia looked at the men.

The light grew a little brighter.

“We need to go.” The other guard looked at the roof. “The camera’s going to go back online soon enough. We need to get as far away from here as possible as soon as possible.”

Heather nodded once. “Check the hallway.”

Despite the fortress-like look of the prison, with Heather and the other guard’s keys, it wasn’t hard to get out. Heather and the other guard were expected to be there, and with the systems half running they were able to shepherd the men out of the tunnels and into the forest without so much as running into anyone who would question them about it. They kept moving until the last lights from the city were gone leaving them in near darkness.

* * * *

Ben looked at the sky. It would be dawn soon. He pressed a hand to his shoulder, wincing. The wound still throbbed, but he’d survive. He’d had worse. Dahlia caught the corner of his eye, moving between the men checking their arms. He waited for her to reach the end of the line before moving off a little. He looped around, ending up beside her.

“It might be time to drug some of the guys, especially the younger ones.”

Dahlia started, and spun to face him. “Oh, most of them seem okay. Anyway, Heather’s friend has my bag. I didn’t get her name.”

“Des?”

“If that’s the other guard.” Dahlia shrugged. “There’s Vicodin in there if someone needs it, not a lot, but... if... Ask around, one pill to each one who needs it. You can find the right bottle, right? V-I-C-O—”

“I got it.” Ben cut her off. “You don’t have to stay. We’re not far out of town. Heather can show you the way back.”

She shook her head. “I stole from the hospital. I took a lot from the hospital. Between that and, well, they’ve probably found your chips by now. Paired with me disappearing and everything else, they’ll put it together pretty fast.”

“You know I didn’t send Heather to—”

“I know,” Dahlia said. “I made my choice.”

Ben nodded, sticking his hands into his pockets. “Thank you.”

Dahlia pressed her lips together. “Someone came to me for help. Asked me for medical help. It was my professional duty to help them.”

Ben didn’t respond.

“Dahlia?” Heather moved towards her.

“Yeah?”

“We’re going to need your comm unit. There’s a GPS in it.”

Dahlia set her hand on her hip, sliding it against her waistband. “I... I must have lost it somewhere last night.”

“All the better.” Heather nodded. “We don’t want it here. All the guys okay?”

“I...” She didn’t move her hand off her waistband. “Yes. Yes, they’re fine. I think I need to go sit down. If any of the guys need something for the pain, give them a Vicodin. They’re in an orange container. One pill each.”

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.