by Jessica Dall
He scoffed. “You know you had just as much a chance as I did of coming out with a Y-chromosome.”
“Maybe,” Dahlia agreed. “Maybe it’s fate, luck, or just plain chance. Whatever it was, it just means I was raised in a different way by different people from you.”
He swallowed. “It means we’re both human and at one point we were equals. Actually, at one point we were superior. Women were marginalized. The balance finally hit equal and then—”
“Ben, please.” Dahlia held up a hand. “All your alternate history stories give me a headache. Anyway, what does the past matter? We live here and now. We can’t do anything about the past or even prove what was in the past.”
“When your life is crap in the ‘here and now’, Lia, you tend to have to look at the past so you can think about the future.”
She looked at him, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry, all right? I’m sorry that your life is so awful.”
“It’s not just my life,” Ben said. “It’s the life of every single damn person with the misfortune of being born with a Y-chromosome. Every new regime needs an enemy. We drew the short straw this time around.”
“What short...?” Her eyebrows furrowed and then she waved it off. “Never mind. Just... everything in our world is set up on the idea that we’re better off with you away from us.”
“Maybe it’s time to set up a different world then,” he said.
She frowned and put off asking the question as long as she could. “What do you mean?”
“Things changed once.” He paused. “People could change it again.”
“I don’t know where you’re going with this, Ben.” She crossed her arms. “But if it’s going where I think it’s going, you’re talking treason.”
“Treason.” He raised an eyebrow.
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” Dahlia moved towards the bathroom.
“What?” He moved after her. “Do they have surveillance on you in your room?”
“Of course not.” She turned, resting her hand on the doorframe.
“Then what does it hurt to talk?”
“When you’re talking about... what is it you are talking about? Revolution?”
“If we stuck all of you in camps and used you only when we wanted sons would you be happy with your lot in life?”
Dahlia threw up her hands. “I can’t listen to this, Ben. I’m already protecting you from the whole hacking thing. If you are trying to start... anything, any trouble, don’t tell me about it. I can’t know about it.”
He looked at her for a long moment and then shrugged. “It’s all hypothetical.”
“A dangerous hypothetical,” Dahlia said. “Especially for you. I don’t think the whole Rights of the Accused thing extends to men.”
“Not a whole lot extends to us.”
She swallowed and nodded in acknowledgement. “I suppose it would be easy for someone in your situation to hate us. To hate women.”
“Are you trying to say I’m a misogynist?”
“No.” Dahlia shook her head. “Just saying it’s interesting that you don’t seem to have some sort of antipathy towards me. Seems to be quite the opposite really.”
He released a breath and moved towards her again. He brushed a piece of hair out of her face, gently pulling her out of the doorway. “I’m sorry. It’s a touchy subject.”
She nodded.
“Anyway, it’s not your fault you were brainwashed.”
She raised an eyebrow, leaning away from him. “Excuse me?”
“They’ve spent over three-hundred years making women believe men are all that is wrong with the world. You’re a product of your society. I suppose I blame them, not you.”
She tapped her fingers on her leg, nervous. “Blame is a dangerous thing.”
He smiled. “You seem to think any sort of emotion is dangerous.”
She pressed her lips together in a thin line. “It depends on the emotion.”
“Well, you can be reasonable.” He stepped closer again, slipping his arm around her waist to force her to stop tapping. “I’m done with trying that. I’m perfectly comfortable being a slave to my emotions.”
“Are we really back here again?”
“Seems that way.” He kissed her neck. “No better way of making up after a fight.”
“Ben—”
“I still think you’re attractive. I still like you. It seems we’ll keep coming back to that.”
“How is it possible you can consistently be more and more annoying?” She leaned back and only succeeding in sandwiching herself between him and the wall.
“Please?” He continued to kiss her neck.
“Why are you so stubborn?”
“I thought we had covered that.”
She sighed. “Just...”
“Just what?”
“Give me one second, okay?” She placed her hands on his chest, careful to keep them below his collarbone. “I need to look at something.”
“Look at something?” Ben frowned.
“Please?”
He hesitated, but then nodded, stepping back.
She moved towards her desk to pick up a book.
“You really need this to be your reading time?” He frowned.
“Looking up endorphins.”
“Seriously?” he asked.
“Shh.” She waved him away.
“You also want to make a pro/con list?”
“Do you want me to stop reading anytime soon?” She sent him a look.
He held up his hands, sitting down on the end of her bed.
She sat, knee bouncing as she studied the page for a long moment. At last, she released a breath and then shut the book with a snap.
“So.” Ben watched her. “What’s the verdict, Doc?”
She swallowed and stood, turning to face him. “You promise you’ll be a complete jerk afterwards?”
“I’ll do my best to be the biggest jackass ever.” Ben nodded.
She smiled, but it soon faded. “Well, if we... I mean, well, I understand the basic logistics, but...”
He smiled, standing up and taking her hands. He moved backwards, pulling her to the bed. Carefully he pushed her down, moving on top of her.
“Not eager are you,” she said leaning her head back as he kissed her neck and then her collarbone.
“I’ve only been angling for this for, what? A month and a half?”
She relaxed, letting him kiss down her chest, to where her neckline fell. She frowned a moment. “Am I supposed to feel completely awkward?”
“Will you just shut up and enjoy yourself?” He spoke against her skin.
“I’ve never had someone on top of me,” she said. “Well, there was that one gym class, but that was a missed tackle.”
“I didn’t know you played contact sports,” he said.
“It wasn’t meant to be, but... whoa!” She jumped as he pulled her shirt up a little.
He smiled, keeping a strong hold of the shirt hem until he could slip it over her head. “Keep talking. You’re less stiff when you talk.”
“That isn’t strange?”
“What is?”
“Me wanting to talk through this?”
“Well, being normal is overrated.” He kissed her stomach.
She gasped. “Should I be doing something?”
“Don’t need to.” He slid his hands down to the button of her jeans. “Keep talking. What happened in gym?”
“Well, I was twelve, so I was in Rose then...”
“Rose?” he mumbled.
“The color?” she said breathlessly. “It’s what you wear when you’re put on the top academic track.”
“Hmm.” He undid her pants. “Hips up.”
She lifted her hips up absentmindedly, letting him slide off her pants. “Even when you’re not on a physical track you have to take gym, but then again, we aren’t the most physically astute people. My friend, Joan—she’s an engineer now, quite a good one so I hea
r—was a complete klutz in school, so when we were playing... what are you doing?”
He slid back up over her, kissing her neck again. “Nothing. Go on.”
She watched him kick off his pants. “Honestly, Ben. Shouldn’t I be doing something?”
“Just calm down.” He kissed her mouth with a light touch. “There’s no wrong way to do this.”
“So, if I just close my eyes and lie here...”
“I’m sure I’d get by.” He smiled, pulling her bra off. “Open your legs a little.”
She did.
“Are you really this nervous or just not into this at all?”
“I’m just used to doing more at this point.”
“Do you trust me?” He smiled.
“Not really.”
“At least in this?”
“I suppose.”
“Then stop thinking so much.”
Dahlia nodded, pressing her lips together.
He kissed her, trailing his lips towards her neck as he repositioned himself. “Keep talking if you need to.”
“I... I... uh...” Dahlia stammered, finally just shook her head when she couldn’t get a coherent sentence together.
He pulled his head back, just enough to look at her. “Dahlia.”
She looked at him, eyes wide.
“Do you want me to stop?”
She hesitated a moment, shook her head.
“Then trust me,” he barely whispered. “Can you do that?”
Just another slight hesitation, and she nodded, lifting her lips just enough to meet his.
It was all the invitation he seemed to need. He pressed forward. She gasped, wrapped herself around him, and felt him smile against her skin.
He dropped his head, brought his lips next to her ear as she began to fall into his rhythm. “Good. Relax. Trust me.”
Chapter Seven
Dahlia groaned as the chimes of her alarm went off. Nothing in her wanted to move. She lay in bed, warm, relaxed, cursing the pad for being on the other wall. One more minute and she’d get herself up. The chiming suddenly turned off. Dahlia frowned, easing her eyes open and levering herself up onto her forearms.
Ben looked over sheepishly. “Sorry.”
“What did you do?” she said.
“I pressed the button.” He pointed at the keypad. “Those things nearly gave me a heart attack. I was standing right next to them.”
“Your heart’s fine.” She shook her head, still frowning. “Why are you up?”
“I was just looking out the window.” He shrugged. “There were some women knocking around the fountain out there earlier. I’m surprised they didn’t wake you.”
“Oh, they’re always trying to fix that.” Dahlia stretched, wrapping her blanket around her body before standing to look out the window. “It’s been broken for as long as I’ve been living here. I suppose I’m used to them, how did you put it, ‘knocking around’?”
He nodded, slipping his arms under the blanket and around her waist. “I take it they can’t see in here.”
“Not when the glass is sort of smoky looking like it is,” she said. “When it’s like that you can only see through it one way.”
He nodded, kissing her neck.
She pulled back a bit. “You promised last night you’d be a jerk right now, don’t you remember?”
He hummed noncommittally. “Can I start after breakfast?”
She broke away from him. Looking at the time, she sighed. “Now or never. I need to get ready for work.”
“Seriously?” He turned to watch her.
“Seriously.” She opened the closet and tossed the blanket back on the bed. “There’s cereal in the headboard if you want it. I don’t think I have any milk though.”
“You’re infuriating, you know that?”
“I’m picking up the slack since you aren’t.” Dahlia did her best to fight down a smile.
Ben nodded with a grin. “It seems we’re perfect for each other. When one of us is being nice—”
“I wouldn’t go so far as to say we’re perfect for each other.” She pulled on her underwear and then a dress.
“When will you get back?”
“I get off at 17:00,” she said, looking at him, unsure. “Do you want to stay here or go back to the camp?”
“What’s today?” he asked.
“Monday.”
“I meant the date.”
“The ninth,” she said. “Why?”
“Almost your independence day.”
She paused and nodded. “In a week and a half.”
He nodded, looking back out the window. “I suppose I’ll stick around.”
“Because of Independence Day?” She frowned.
“Because it isn’t your independence day,” he said. “Women are always... gone, when it’s your independence day.”
Dahlia smiled. “Well, it is a big day.”
“For you.”
“For us,” she agreed.
* * * *
At work, Dahlia caught up on her case notes. They had never been Dahlia’s strong suit, and she certainly hadn’t been made a doctor because of her penchant for paperwork, Today, something about them seemed especially daunting. Not enough sleep, perhaps. Or she was more distracted than she was going to let herself admit.
“Knock, knock.” Cassandra called.
Dahlia held up a finger, finishing typing something into her tablet before turning around. “Hey.”
“Catching up on paperwork?”
“No, I just thought I’d sit around and play with patients’ minds.” Dahlia smiled. “The slides were making me go cross-eyed. Is there anyone else in the waiting room?”
“I think Willa got the rest of them.” Cassandra shook her head.
Dahlia slipped the tablet away. “Do you want to do an early lunch?”
“Yes, yes, I would, but I also wanted to give you this.”
Dahlia looked at the package Cassandra offered her. “An inconspicuously butcher-paper-wrapped package?”
“It was left at the front desk for you.”
“That’s not suspicious at all.” Dahlia took the box from her, sniffing it. All she could smell was the dry paper. “Think it’s dangerous?”
“Don’t know why someone would send you something dangerous. Open it.”
Dahlia studied it for another moment, and then shrugged and pulled the paper off. Inside was a box, and inside the box, a small plastic container, not much bigger than her palm.
“What is it?” Cassandra stared at the box.
“No clue.” Dahlia opened the container, a vaguely sweet smell coming from it. “It looks like some sort of dried herbs in, very, very crude, capsules.”
“What herb?”
Dahlia shrugged, picking up the note inside. Squared-off block letters declared DO NOT INJEST. “Whatever it is, it’s not supposed to be ingested. The person who packaged it didn’t know how to spell ‘ingest’.”
“Why are they pills if you aren’t supposed to take them?”
Dahlia shook her head, “You assume I have any idea? I’ll have to test what’s in one.”
* * * *
Ben’s smile dropped as soon as he saw the look on Dahlia’s face. “Something wrong?”
She looked at him for a moment before sighing and sitting down on the bed. She held up a plastic container. “This.”
He glanced at it. “Tupperware?”
“Hmm?” she looked up.
“Those plastic containers are called Tupperware,” he said.
“Ah.” She looked at it. “Well, it’s really more what’s inside the container.”
“Well.” He sat next to her. “What’s in there, then?”
“Nerium Oleander,” she said.
Ben’s eyebrows rose and then dropped. He shook his head. “I have no idea what that is.”
“It’s an evergreen shrub,” she said. “It was... well it was supposed to have been irradiated. It’s pretty, but other than decoration, it was on
ly really good for killing things.”
“So, it’s a poison,” he said.
“Pretty much,” Dahlia responded. “It was dropped off at the hospital front desk with my name on it, but nobody knows by whom. The security cameras don’t even show anyone leaving it there. It’s all very cloak and dagger. All it had was my name on it and this note.”
He took it and then hesitated. “What does it say?”
“Do not ingest... well, injest, they didn’t spell it right. I’ve been trying to determine if it was just a typo or if it’s some sort of clue I’m completely missing.”
“Clue?”
“Well, in jest, two words, means like as a joke. It could have been just like a Silver-level typo or it could be someone playing a joke on me.”
“With poison?”
“With a poison that’s not supposed to exist anymore.” She stood, setting the container down with her medical bag. “You know, with the oleander dried like this, so concentrated, there’s enough in there to kill the better part of this metropolitan area.”
Ben watched her. “So why haven’t you gotten rid of it?”
“I need to figure out whom to tell about it, and how to dispose of it safely. If I burn it, it contaminates the air around it. I can’t bury it without contaminating the ground and possibly the water. I’ll most likely have to turn it over to some sort of hazmat team. Though, you wouldn’t want to turn it over to someone with a bone to pick.”
“I thought all you women were peaceful. Don’t you trust the others not to poison people?”
“There hasn’t been a war since the men left,” she said, “but the power to have someone you don’t like to just fall over dead without any way to trace it back to you? Oleander is all but untraceable a few hours after death. The body metabolizes it quickly. If someone wanted someone dead, it’s the perfect, nonviolent, way to kill them without leaving behind a trace to point to an intentional killing. It would just look like the person had a sudden myocardial infarction.”
“A what now?” Ben asked.
“A heart attack.”
“You couldn’t have just said heart attack?”
“Well, we doctors use big words to scare people out of wanting to play doctor.” She essayed a weak smile.
“I think it works,” Ben said. “Sounds like you’ve had an interesting day.”
