Blood Rebel [COMPLETED]

Chapter Thirty Two - The Heath

Selene had a half-formed plan in her mind when she awoke on the morning of the exchange. She wasn't sure how it would work out, but she knew what she wanted the result to be. As she got dressed she could hear Jackie yapping in the next room:

"Don't you think we should be trying to make the next Blood Rebel? I'm keen if you are."

"Stop talking nonsense. That's not how it works. You have to be in love." Virgil's voice was hushed, the words wrapped in cotton wool.

"That's not part of the legend. It's just a human mother and father. They don't actually have to be in love."

"Jackie, pipe down. This is not the time for that kind of talk. Selene?" Harland called through to the bedroom and Selene rushed out, wearing her ceremonial dress.

"Well, you'll need to take that off. You haven't covered yourself in sewage yet," said Harland, raising an eyebrow. She looked around the room and noticed that the others wore nothing but their underwear. Their skin was pale but streaked with dirt; no one could stay clean in the tunnels.

Selene moved towards the bedroom but Harland reached out and grabbed her, hauling her by the shoulder. She felt skin squeeze bone and grate.

"No need to hide. Do it now. Here."

One look at his face told Selene he was not joking. He wanted her to strip in front of everyone. She looked around their faces, and noticed that some of them had turned away: Virgil and Richard Mason were having a hushed discussion about something to do with the weapons and supply of bullets.

The dress was awkward to get out of, especially with all those eyes upon her, but Harland stretched out an arm to prevent anyone moving forward to offer assistance. She felt her skin burning and the question ran through her mind over and over:

Why? Why is he doing this?

The dress stuck in places, around her elbows and waist, and she twitched her way out of it, shifting her limbs this way and that until she stood in nothing but her underwear.

Harland snatched the dress away and passed it to Michael, who stood nearest. Michael held it as though it were wild animal that might infect him with a contagious disease, his eyes round and surprised.

"That will need to be soaked. Jackie, fetch the filtered sewage. Curtis, help her, will you?" Jackie and Curtis reacted slowly to Harland's order, still stunned by his strange display of authority. "Go on, get it." He tipped his head in the direction of the kitchen and they scuttled off and returned a moment later with four buckets of filtered sewage.

"There are cloths and sponges - you'll have to help each other. It needs to be everywhere. Behind your ears and down the back of your neck. Quickly," said Richard Mason, pulling sponges and cloths from a grubby bag that hung on the back of the kitchen door.

Their clothes, apart from Selene's, had been dipped in sewage the night before, and all that remained was to cover their skin. They grabbed at the cloths and plunged them into the buckets of rusty goo, that slopped and squished as they worked.

There were some disgruntled moans as they had to ask each other to cover the hard to reach parts of their bodies, but a sharp word from Harland stopped that. They painted the sewage all over each other until their faces and arms and chests were the colour of dried blood and rusted metal, and then they got dressed again.

When Selene, with immense relief, fixed her wet dress back on, she stood up and surveyed the room. It was crowded and full of human energy: the men were getting excited, realising that departure was closing in. Guns were strapped to their backs and hips, silver knives in their boots, and as a final touch they pulled black balaclavas over their faces. They were terrifying.