Read Online What Blood Leaves Behind (The Poison Rose) by Delany Beaumont - Free Book Online
Authors: Delany Beaumont
Tags: Fiction, post apocalypse
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buildings opposite outlined against the night sky.
A long, narrow beam of white light suddenly streaks down the middle of the highway. The shock of it makes all of us jump back from the window. We wait a few moments, then creep forward again, cautiously peering out beyond the edge of the curtains. We see the beam rake across the cars and trucks in its way as the motorcycle rider swerves to avoid obstacles.
More splashes of light fan out across the interstate, spreading apart then clenching like the fingers of a grasping hand. Several hands. I catch a glimpse of one of the bikes as it pulls out in front of another and it looks enormous. Chrome pipes gleam like the blades of knives. The bike’s rider is only a dark blur.
The motorcycles slow, come to a stop all grouped together. The beams of light are like a web stretched across the highway. I can hear shouts above the rumble of the idling bikes, then a ricochet of explosive pops as they accelerate, weaving through the wrecks and continuing on past us.
For a moment I think that maybe they won’t come back. They’re heading south down the highway with some other goal in mind. But the faces of Jendra and William tell me I’m wrong. Whoever is out there is not going to leave us alone.
The organization, the knowhow these people must have to be able to travel in a motorized pack like this amazes me. I didn’t think anything like this was possible, not on such a scale.
“What are we going to do?” It’s Emily, whispering in my ear. She’s clutching my arm, the long nails of her fingers digging into my skin.
I jerk my arm away. “You’re hurting me.” I try to make out her face in the darkness. I want to believe that I can rely on her. “I don’t think there’s anything we can do.”
She turns away from me, to the others. “We can run. Let’s get out of here. Hide somewhere.” I hear her stumble against the bed, making her way to where she keeps her few possessions.
I want to tell her, Maybe they’re your friends, Emmy. But I can’t carp at her when she’s so scared. Instead, I say, “Emmy, where are we going to go? If they come back they’ll be on us before we make it past the parking lot.” Although I didn’t intend them to, my words sound cruel and I immediately wish I hadn’t said them.
“Maybe they won’t come back.” It’s Stace’s small voice, nearly swallowed by the dark of the room.
“Maybe.”
But as I breathe out that one word I can hear the mechanical hum growing louder again. It had nearly died away but now the bikes are clearly circling back to us. They must have gone on to the next exit and are now weaving their way up the frontage road.
I reach out in the dark, trying to grab the children, pull them to me. We fumble against each other, hugging and clutching.
“I’m so scared,” Terry says. I can hear CJ crying. I wish with all my heart that there was something we could do besides wait helplessly. We could try to find another room to hide in but the motel’s not large and we would just be delaying the inevitable.
The thrum and roar of the bikes grows, pounding through the cold night air, filling our senses. Soon we see the long white fingers of the single beam headlights reaching out across the dark road. The beams slice inward as the bikes turn toward us and wind their way through the debris cluttering the motel’s parking lot.
They shudder to a stop, grouped together right below our room. Their riders leave the engines running, the lights on. I can’t make out any of them and I can’t see the bikes themselves. The heavy throb of so many engines blurs in my ears, muddling my thoughts, my frantic attempts to figure out what I can do. I count seven headlights, seven bikes. It’s like a pack of wild dogs circling below us, waiting.
I shove the kids away from me.
“You stay in the room. All of you. Don’t come out.”
I feel my way around the space where I was sleeping, find the rifle. I know it’s loaded. I
A long, narrow beam of white light suddenly streaks down the middle of the highway. The shock of it makes all of us jump back from the window. We wait a few moments, then creep forward again, cautiously peering out beyond the edge of the curtains. We see the beam rake across the cars and trucks in its way as the motorcycle rider swerves to avoid obstacles.
More splashes of light fan out across the interstate, spreading apart then clenching like the fingers of a grasping hand. Several hands. I catch a glimpse of one of the bikes as it pulls out in front of another and it looks enormous. Chrome pipes gleam like the blades of knives. The bike’s rider is only a dark blur.
The motorcycles slow, come to a stop all grouped together. The beams of light are like a web stretched across the highway. I can hear shouts above the rumble of the idling bikes, then a ricochet of explosive pops as they accelerate, weaving through the wrecks and continuing on past us.
For a moment I think that maybe they won’t come back. They’re heading south down the highway with some other goal in mind. But the faces of Jendra and William tell me I’m wrong. Whoever is out there is not going to leave us alone.
The organization, the knowhow these people must have to be able to travel in a motorized pack like this amazes me. I didn’t think anything like this was possible, not on such a scale.
“What are we going to do?” It’s Emily, whispering in my ear. She’s clutching my arm, the long nails of her fingers digging into my skin.
I jerk my arm away. “You’re hurting me.” I try to make out her face in the darkness. I want to believe that I can rely on her. “I don’t think there’s anything we can do.”
She turns away from me, to the others. “We can run. Let’s get out of here. Hide somewhere.” I hear her stumble against the bed, making her way to where she keeps her few possessions.
I want to tell her, Maybe they’re your friends, Emmy. But I can’t carp at her when she’s so scared. Instead, I say, “Emmy, where are we going to go? If they come back they’ll be on us before we make it past the parking lot.” Although I didn’t intend them to, my words sound cruel and I immediately wish I hadn’t said them.
“Maybe they won’t come back.” It’s Stace’s small voice, nearly swallowed by the dark of the room.
“Maybe.”
But as I breathe out that one word I can hear the mechanical hum growing louder again. It had nearly died away but now the bikes are clearly circling back to us. They must have gone on to the next exit and are now weaving their way up the frontage road.
I reach out in the dark, trying to grab the children, pull them to me. We fumble against each other, hugging and clutching.
“I’m so scared,” Terry says. I can hear CJ crying. I wish with all my heart that there was something we could do besides wait helplessly. We could try to find another room to hide in but the motel’s not large and we would just be delaying the inevitable.
The thrum and roar of the bikes grows, pounding through the cold night air, filling our senses. Soon we see the long white fingers of the single beam headlights reaching out across the dark road. The beams slice inward as the bikes turn toward us and wind their way through the debris cluttering the motel’s parking lot.
They shudder to a stop, grouped together right below our room. Their riders leave the engines running, the lights on. I can’t make out any of them and I can’t see the bikes themselves. The heavy throb of so many engines blurs in my ears, muddling my thoughts, my frantic attempts to figure out what I can do. I count seven headlights, seven bikes. It’s like a pack of wild dogs circling below us, waiting.
I shove the kids away from me.
“You stay in the room. All of you. Don’t come out.”
I feel my way around the space where I was sleeping, find the rifle. I know it’s loaded. I
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