What Blood Leaves Behind (The Poison Rose) by Delany Beaumont

right hand tapping the trigger guard.
    Then I hear CJ’s voice. “You know where there’s more food?”
    “Oh, there’s lots of food in the city. You just have to come with us.”
    Stace says, “We’re already in the city.”
    “No, this is nothing,” the voice says. It’s a male voice, someone young. “Downtown, that’s where we keep everything good. There’s a lot of people there just like us and we have it all organized.”
    “He’s right,” the voice of a girl says, another stranger. “There’s no reason to be afraid. There’s not that many of us left, so why would we want to hurt you?” Then the girl steps out of the room when I’m only a few yards away.
    “Hi, there,” she says. “We’ve been watching you. We don’t mean you any harm.” She’s about my age and looks so healthy and clean, it’s frightening. I stop in my tracks and draw back the bolt of the rifle, then shove it back so it clicks into position, to let her know it’s loaded. The girl laughs, unconcerned. “You won’t need that. Nobody needs guns anymore, not to threaten each other with.” She waits for me to approach.
    As I edge closer, I get a better look at her. She reminds me of a healthier version of Emily, about as tall as Emily but with a much fuller figure. Her hair is dyed a shade of platinum blond and has been carefully cut by someone who knew what they were doing. She’s doll-like, unreal. She has clean clothes on, black jeans and a sweater. Her cheeks are lightly freckled, her wide green eyes rimmed with kohl and looking very dramatic.
    “I’m Jendra,” she says.
    “Get back in the room.” I jerk the rifle up, the stock against my shoulder.
    “I’m not going to hurt you.” She doesn’t look scared. She has an expression on her face that enrages me, like she pities me and has no reason to believe that I’m for real. But she obediently puts her hands up and backs into the room, her mouth wearing just the hint of a smile.
    When I reach the doorway, I see the other intruder. It’s a boy about the same age as me and the girl. He’s also well-dressed in clean clothes, with his sandy-colored hair cut neat. Together they look like twin dolls, life-like androids.
    As amazed as I am by the presence of these strangers, it’s the children who surprise me the most.
    All four of them—Emily, Stace, CJ and Terry—are reclining on the edge of one of the big beds. They look dazed and dreamy, as if someone has put them in a trance. In the middle of the bed are a few empty cartons, discarded wrapping papers and there’s the smell of food. It reminds me of the remnants of a sandwich, an odor of meat and bread.
    I take one cautious step after another into the room, motioning for the two intruders, the two living dolls, to keep backing up all the way to the far window. They exchange glances and the girl shakes her head sadly. “We’re unarmed,” the boy says.
    The girl, Jendra, nods toward him. “This is William. And you are…?”
    Emily jumps up from the bed and steps between us, between where I’m standing and William and Jendra, as if she’s going to protect them from me. “Her name’s Gillian,” she says, like I’m someone she barely knows. “For God’s sake, Gillian, stop it. They brought us food. They’re here to help us.”
    “How do you know that?”
    She sneers, as if I’m too foolish to take seriously. “Haven’t we been waiting for this? Aren’t they what we’ve been looking for?”
    I wonder if she’s right. There’s something about them that I don’t trust. They must have been watching us, watching me, and they approached the children when they knew I was out of the way. I need time to think, to decide what to do.
    Emily says, “They’ve gone through the same things we did except they got to the city earlier.” Her tone of voice is becoming theatrical, absurdly self-confident, like she’s trying to imitate Jendra, her new friend. “Why would they want to hurt us? Where would that