“Please don’t send me away,” Andrea begged several days later. Child services was at the door with a second cousin of Andrea’s father. The woman wanted to raise Andrea with her other two daughters, and as much as Amelia wanted to keep Andrea with her, she knew that this young, soft-spoken mother would be able to give her things that Amelia simply couldn’t.

Amelia smiled, and hugged the girl close. “Oh honey. You don’t want to live with an old woman like me. Georgia and her husband can give you a good life and a lot of things I really can’t.” She looked up at Georgia, who stood off to the side.

“You’ll let her come visit me, won’t you?”

The other woman nodded. “Of course she can, anytime she wants. The bus runs right past our house, and I saw a stop at the end of the block. It won’t be any trouble at all.”

Amelia nodded, and looked back at her young charge. “You go with Georgia now, and get settled into your new home. Come and see me this weekend, and I’ll have a surprise for you, okay?”

Obviously reluctant, the girl nodded. “If you say so, I guess I’ll try.” She went upstairs to get her bag and Georgia came over to take Amelia’s hand.

“You’ve been so wonderful taking care of her like this. I can’t tell you how much we appreciate it, and you’re always welcome to visit us too. I’ll make sure Andrea has a bus pass by this weekend. Thank you so much for everything.”

Amelia smiled and patted the woman’s hand. “It’s no trouble at all - Andrea’s a special girl. We’ll all get through this, it will just take some time.”

Andrea came down the stairs, backpack over her shoulder and ran to Amelia, enveloping her in a big hug.

“I love you Amelia,” she whispered. “I’ll be back soon.”

Amelia blinked back tears. She never would have guessed how dear this girl would become in such a short time.

“I love you too.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out two keys she’d taken from her husband’s old keyring that morning. “I want you to have these. That way you can come and go as you please.” She looked into Andrea’s eyes, and felt the connection they had. She understood the full meaning of the gift, and nodded solemnly.

“I’ll keep them safe,” she said, turning to follow Georgia out the door. 

Amelia watched them go, waving from the front step until the dark sedan was out of sight. Moving back inside, she locked the door and went to her desk, pulling a folder out of the top drawer.

Examining the three sketches Andrea had helped her draw, she retrieved a couple of yellowed cards from her husband’s old Rolodex and picked up the phone.  The men who’d murdered Andrea’s father wouldn’t be a burden on society much longer. It was time for them to give back. 

---

It was several hours before all the Chia sprouts were planted in a special section of Amelia’s garden. She’d cleared a rectangle of space and put a wooden frame of two by fours with screen on top over it to protect the small plants from critters that might decide to snack. Then she waved goodbye to Andrea and went back in the shed. She hadn’t said anything to her helper, but there were signs of impending infection on both Number Two and Number Three’s heads, and she needed to clean them up and change their positions as soon as possible. It seemed that what was good for the Chia sprouts might not be so good for the Garden Brigade.

She carefully cleaned each head with a strong vinegar mixture, and then covered the open wounds with a homemade salve of beeswax, sweet almond oil and chamomile. Gently wrapping the heads in soft strips of cotton, she laid her charges down on fresh beds of straw and went to the house to get their dinner. Grinding up extra fresh garlic for a boost of natural antibiotics, she fed the brigade and then locked the shed for the night. Exhausted, she heated up a TV dinner and collapsed into her recliner to eat and rest.

The news came on a little later, and she turned up the volume as police lights flashed outside a neat little suburban home with lovely manicured gardens. Or they’d been lovely at some point. It looked like they’d been neglected for quite some time, and Amelia leaned forward as the camera zoomed in on a small figure standing by one of the police cruisers, wearing a familiar lavender twinset and jeans.

“It was so quick,” Andrea said in a shaky voice. “One minute were having a nice dinner, and the next those men were coming through the back door. Dad told me to duck under the table, so I did. After they left, I saw the blood...”

The girl stopped, turning away and the camera panned out to the news reporter. Apparently three men had broken in, hit her father over the head hard enough to knock him unconscious, and stolen every piece of electrical equipment within reach.

The reporter blinked hard, apparently fighting tears and Amelia’s heart broke for the child. As the reporter droned on about a rash of burglaries in the neighborhood and how people should take care to keep their property secure, Amelia got up and turned the TV off. Pulling on a jacket, she got her keys and went outside, stopping at the sidewalk to look around for any sign of flashing lights. Andrea normally walked to her house, so they had to live close.

A red and blue hue to the east caught her attention, and she walked one block up and another block over before seeing the police cruisers in the street. Making her way down the sidewalk, she was stopped by one of the officers. She began to explain, but there was no need as Andrea lifted her head and their eyes met.

The girl ran to her, ducking under the police tape and throwing her arms around Amelia’s waist.
“Did you see what they did to my dad? I don’t know what to do!”

Amelia held her, stroking her back, and she could feel her protective instincts kicking in.
“It’ll be okay, m’dear. Let’s make sure your dad is okay.” She looked up at the officer. “Can I take her to the hospital?”

“Who are you?” he asked. She started to answer, but Andrea beat her to it.

“She’s my grandma,” the girl said, not even missing a beat. “She’ll take care of me.” She turned to Amelia and winked. Who could resist that hopeful look in her eye.

The officer used his radio for a moment, and then nodded. “I’ll need your contact information, ma’am - in case we need to get a hold of either of you. Then you can go.”

Amelia gave him her phone number and address, forcing herself not to hesitate though it made her nervous. If the police came to the house...but she couldn’t think about that right now. Andrea was all that mattered.

Finally they were released, and after they walked back to Amelia’s house she drove Andrea to the hospital.

It wasn’t long before the doctor met them in the waiting room.

---

Andrea came by every morning that week to check on the brigade and help Amelia with the chores before school. Amelia was hesitant at first - she’d thought to make the girl an apprentice, but there was the father to consider. Eventually, he’d be curious, and that would be awkward, to say the least. She couldn’t expect the girl to lie indefinitely to family either - that would be wrong.

So Amelia accepted the help, but only to a point. On the day that she harvested Number One’s other foot to chip up for more fertilizer, she’d told Andrea to take a day off. The girl was disappointed, but it was better to keep some things a secret, for now at least. 

It wasn’t long before the Chia sprouts were big enough to plant in the garden. Andrea had finished the morning clean-up, and was waiting with a plastic container lined with damp paper towels and a tiny pair of stamp tongs, which Amelia thought might work best for removing the baby plants from Number Two’s scalp.

“Ready?” Amelia asked, placing a chair next to Number Two for her helper to stand on. The girl nodded, and Amelia helped her up, reaching for the tongs.

“I’ll do the first couple, and then you can do a few, okay? We need to be slow and gentle. Do you think you can do that?”

Andrea nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

Amelia poured a small amount of water over Number Two’s head for a little extra lubrication. Then she grasped the base of a Chia sprout with the tongs, and gently tugged. The sprout came free with only slight resistance, and she smiled, laying it in the container.

“There. That wasn’t so bad. Let me do a few more, just to make sure there won’t be any snags.”

Working methodically, she pulled out five more random baby plants from different points on Number Two’s head.

“See how the roots look strong and healthy?” She held one of the sprouts up for Angela to examine, careful not to squeeze the tongs too hard. “And the leaves are perfectly round and bright green. That’s exactly what we want to see.” She laid the plant with the others, and then handed the tongs to Andrea.

“Now it’s your turn. Be gentle - don’t squeeze the tongs too hard.”

Andrea nodded, her face serious as she very slowly grasped a plant at the base and pulled it off of the scalp. Holding it up she smiled, though in her excitement she squeezed two hard. They both watched as the sprout broke in two, falling to the floor.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her eyes moistening. “I didn’t mean to ruin it...”

Amelia laughed, wrapping an arm around the girls shoulders for a quick squeeze. “It’s okay, m’dear. It takes practice, and we have plenty of plants. Why don’t you keep working on Number Two, and I’ll go see about Number Three. You might be less nervous if I’m not watching.”

Andrea shook her head. “But I don’t want to ruin any more! Please, you do it. I can’t.”

Amelia took the tongs, frowning. “You know it’s okay to break things once in awhile, don’t you? It’s often the best way to learn how to do something - by doing it wrong. Why do you think we do experiments?”

Andrea shrugged. “My dad says we should get things right the first time. Otherwise there’s no point in doing them.”

“Well your dad is wrong about that - if you’re afraid to fail, you’ll never actually do anything, and that would be a shame.” She took the girl’s hand and placed the tongs back in them.

“I want you to finish pulling the rest of these, and I don’t care how many you break. Just do your best, and I bet you’ll save more than you drop. The key thing to remember is to not leave any behind, and I’m pretty sure you can handle that, right?”

Andrea looked at the little plants, clearly dubious. “I guess so.”

Amelia smiled again and patted her shoulder. “You’ll do just fine, and I’ll be right on the other side of the wall with Number Three if you need anything. Now let’s get to work, so we can go plant these in the garden.”

She took a few steps and then turned back, watching Andrea tentatively reach out with the tongs and grab another plant. She held it up and then put it in the container before moving to pull another one.

Amelia went to the desk and got another container and a pair of tongs, entering the stall with Number Three. Starting to pull the sprouts from Number Three’s scalp, she grinned as Andrea began to sing quietly on the other side of the wall.   

---

Melanie laughed and smiled her way through the crowd of shirtless men mulling around the beach volleyball pit. She glanced back at the table where she’d left Jodi and Laura several minutes ago, but it was empty. Jodi was probably off playing bondage with her dungeon master, though she’d be horrified if she new that Melanie had guessed her secret. And Laura must have gone home to pine over her missing secret agent man, who was probably out enjoying himself with some other girl stupid enough to fall for that line.

Melanie turned back to the cluster of muscular, tattooed men she’d been keeping an eye on for most of the night. A couple of them were wearing camo, most had dog tags around their neck. The chance that one of them had PTSD from whatever war he’d come back from was pretty high, she figured - and tonight she was going to put that man out of his misery. As a reward for his service, and a service to her country, of course. Normally she stayed away from military guys, but she was feeling her inner daredevil tonight.

Most of the group were on their feet, laughing, tossing back beers, checking out chicks. But there were two sitting near the wall, sipping at their drinks and peeling labels while they talked quietly. She licked her lips and started their way. Nothing like an easy target...

It took some time to reach the back table, but when she finally extricated herself from their far-too-eager buddies, she knew exactly which one she’d be taking home. With a friendly smile to the man on the left, she slid onto a bar stool next to the other guy and held out her hand.

“I’m Lanie,” she said as he reluctantly took it. “I know you probably think I’m a hooker, but I’m not. I do find you very attractive though, and your buddies said you were single, so I thought I’d introduce myself. Is that too forward?”

The other guy nearly choked on his beer as he laughed at her monologue. Melanie rewarded him with a grin as he stood up and slapped her target on the shoulder.

“That’s the best offer you’re going to get this month, Tom. I’d take the lady up on her offer, if I were you.” He lifted his bottle to Melanie and then went to join the rest of their group.

“You’re lying,” Tom said once his friend was out of earshot. “They already paid you, didn’t they? I told ‘em I don’t need no woman, so you can just run along now. Keep your money. Serves ‘em right.”

Melanie shot him a sympathetic smile and leaned in close, low enough for him to see down the front of her blouse as she caressed his arm.

“Honey, you can believe what you want, but I know a man who needs...release...when I see one. We’re not talking about strings here, or awkward morning after chit-chat. Just sex in the parking lot, quick and dirty. Then you can come back and I’ll go home, both happier and satisfied. Don’t you want to help a girl out? You’re not the only one who needs a little playtime, sugar.”

He looked her in the eyes, and she held his stare until he finally gave in.

“Yeah. Okay.” He got up and she grabbed his hand, waving to the others as they left amidst a slew of mocking boos. Out the back door and into the alley just a few feet from where she’d left her car, she flung herself up against the brick wall and grabbed his shirt, pulling him hard up against her.

“Do you like it rough, baby?” she whispered in his ear as his hands grabbed her hips. “‘Cause I like it rough. I want to feel those hands pinching, slapping. Just let it all out on me, baby. Treat me like your prisoner. You want to, right?” 

His teeth bit down hard on her neck and she winced at the pain. Oh yeah. This soldier liked it rough. He’d go out feeling good. She could give him that much.

He yanked her dress up around her waist and slid his hands behind her butt, delivering a hard smack to one side and an eye-watering pinch to the other. She let her head fall back against the wall as she palmed the needle from a pouch in her belt and let him rip the front of her shirt open. Arching her back, she waited until his teeth latched onto her breast and then plunged the needle into his neck.

He barely had time to glance up at her before his eyes rolled back in their sockets and his legs gave out. Melanie quickly straightened her clothes as much as possible and then got in the car, pulling it close enough so she could wrangle the soldier’s body into the back seat. Checking to make sure nothing was left behind, she got back in the car and drove home, adrenaline flowing hot and heavy through her veins.

She pressed the button to open the garage door and wasn’t surprised to see Aaron standing by the house entry, waiting. For once, she didn’t care. She couldn’t think of a single thing she’d forgotten, and the thought of the piece she’d make from the soldier’s skin, and how she’d present it to the Veteran’s Administration - anonymously of course - in his honor gave her a high to rival any drug on the streets.

Parking the car, she pressed the button again to close the door and then got out, flashing a huge smile at her would-be partner.

“You should have been there, Aaron. It was amazing. I found the perfect subject - a PTSD victim and ended his suffering. His canvass will be the perfect base for an art piece in memoriam. I already have a design mapped out in my head. It’s going to be so fabulous. Would you carry him in for me? He’s all muscle. The all are, aren’t they?”

She brushed past him and opened the door to the house, setting her purse and keys on the counter inside. Turning back, she was surprised to see Aaron just standing there, staring at her.

“Aaron? What’s wrong?”

He frowned, rubbing his forehead and then dragging his hand down the side of his face.

“You killed a soldier...on Memorial Day?”

She palmed a knife from the counter and crossed her arms over her chest, leaning a shoulder against the door frame. “I was helping him. He was miserable. Having a hard time fitting back in. I ended his suffering, and his skin will go towards a good cause. Do you have a problem with that?” She raised an eyebrow, considering her next few moves should he answer incorrectly.

He was taller and stronger, and smart enough to know she wouldn’t let him leave without a fight. He’d expect her to go for his neck, so the femoral artery would be her best bet. It would make a huge mess, but it would be relatively quick.

He shifted and her muscles tensed, ready for action.

“I was just...surprised, is all. Military police aren’t just going to let this go, you know. If you left any shred of evidence, they’ll hunt you down, and you might not even make it to prison. I’m surprised you’d take that risk, frankly.”

Melanie shrugged, her muscles relaxing slightly. “If they find me, they find me. Sooner or later, I’m going to get caught - you found me, after all. But for now, I’d rather not worry about what might happen, and focus on what did, and my shiny new project here. Now will you carry him inside, or do I need to move him myself?”

He held both hands up, surrendering. “I’ll bring him in. You want him on the table downstairs like last time?”

She nodded. “Yes please. And maybe I’ll even let you help me with the skinning this time, if you’d like.”

Aaron smiled. “That would be fun. I’ll let you change, and meet you down there.”

Melanie turned and went inside, returning the knife to the counter as she passed by. A quick shower and change of clothes later, she went down to the basement where Aaron had laid out the body, stoked the stove, cut off the clothing and arranged her tools on the workbench. She looked over all of his preparations in delight.

“How did you remember where everything goes, and what I needed? This is wonderful, Aaron!” She kissed him on the cheek, enjoying the blush that crept under his skin. He returned her smile.

“I pay close attention to everything you do,” he said, staring straight into her eyes. “I love to watch you work.”

Melanie thought she could actually feel her heart melt a little. The feeling was scary, but somehow exhilarating.

“That is so sweet. Let me just mark our cuts out, and then we’ll hang him up and get this project started. If we work quickly, maybe we can even get the skins salted yet tonight.”

Aaron handed her the container of blood-powder ink and her fountain pen.

Several hours later, Melanie wiped the sweat from her brow with a small towel, handing a clean one to Aaron. Standing back from the salting board, she surveyed their handiwork. Two large pieces of skin were centered over the narrow slats, with several smaller pieces of varying size were attached randomly in the rest of the available space. She’d built the contraption herself, to allow the hides to dry without having to tilt the boards - the small openings between the slats allowed the moisture to fall through, while the skin itself kept the salt from falling. Each piece of hide had been cleaned well and sprinkled liberally with rock salt to create a hostile environment for any bacteria or disease.

“How long do we leave them there?” Aaron asked, collecting the last of her tools in a red bin for cleaning. She turned to help, stretching her arms overhead and yawning.

“A few days,” she said, pulling down the large spray nozzle that hung above her work table and turning the water on. “After that, I’ll soak them and tan them and once they’re dry, they’ll be ready to use.”

She hosed down the stainless steel morgue table, careful to do a thorough job as the hot water steamed off the surface.

“Can I help you with the tanning process?”

She smiled. “I’ll think about it, okay?” Glancing at the clock on the wall, she was shocked to realize it was nearly four in the morning. “Is that clock correct?”

Aaron checked his watch and nodded. “Yep, looks like we pulled an all nighter.”

Melanie frowned. “Neither of the girls checked in last night - or I didn’t hear my phone ring, anyways. I need my phone.” She looked around, examining every inch of the workbench twice. Then she looked up at Aaron as she remembered.

“Oh God. I left it in my purse. Upstairs. I’m the one who didn’t check in. If they called the police they’ll both put me at that bar last night...I need to call them - right now!”

She took the stairs two at a time and riffled through her purse, her fingers clumsy as they searched. Finally pulling it free, she accessed her voice mail and listened to several frantic messages, the last one just twenty minutes ago, saying they were coming over.

“Shit.” She dialed Laura’s number, but it just kept ringing in her ear. Trying Jodi next, she was relieved when her friend picked up.

“Melanie? Is that you? Are you okay? Where the hell have you been?”

“I am so, so, so sorry,” Melanie said. I was downstairs, and I left my phone upstairs, and I totally forgot. I hope you can both forgive me - is Laura okay? She didn’t pick up when I called.”

“She’s fine, just mad. Hey, we’re right outside your door. Want to invite us in for coffee?”

No! “Of course! I’ll be right there.”

Melanie disconnected the call and gave Aaron an apologetic look.

“I’m sorry,” she said, surprised to realize she meant it.

He nodded. “It’s okay.” He checked the lock on the basement door and then moved in close, lifting her arm to place a kiss on the heart-shaped scar he’d given her the first time they met. “Until next time.” He went out the back door, and Melanie stared at it for a long moment before impatient knocking on the front door reminded her she had guests.

Next time, she thought as she jogged through the living room. It actually kind of had a nice ring to it...  

---

Enjoy this post? Support your author:

The interloper was short, Amelia realized. Too short to be an adult, and wearing a dress as well. She wasn’t sure what to do - they’d never taken a child before, but she couldn’t risk anyone finding out about their research before it was ready to be shared.

The girl wasn’t screaming, and as Amelia looked closer, the child looked to be examining Number Two with a rather analytical expression that reminded her of her late husband. An idea began to form, one that was risky, but potentially just what they all needed.

Amelia swung the door open slowly, smiling when the young girl turned toward her. It was the girl who had been at her door the other day, Andrea, if she remembered correctly.

“Good morning...Andrea, isn’t it?” she said, stepping up into the shed. “It’s nice to see you again, dear, but what are you doing back here?”

The girl looked down at her toes, nervously clasping her hands together. “I knocked on the front door, but no one answered, so I came around to see if you were working in your garden.”

Amelia smiled, going down on one knee to put her at the girl’s level. “This shed is normally locked, my dear - how did you get in?”

“The lock wasn’t closed all the way. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be nosy. My dad always says I’m too nosy...”

Amelia laughed, reaching out to pat the girl’s arm. “It’s okay, honey. But you know you can’t tell anyone about my experiments here, right? Most people wouldn’t understand.”

“I won’t tell. What are your ‘speriments, anyway? They look like people, sort of.” Andrea turned to look at Number Two again, tilting her head as if another angle might help.

Amelia stood up, considering how much she should say. Clearly the girl didn’t realize exactly what she was looking at, and maybe that was for the best. For now, at least.

“Well, they’re a different sort of people,” Amelia said. “I call them my Garden Brigade, and they help me grow things. Do you remember the fertilizer I gave you?”

Andrea nodded.

“They helped me make that. They’re kind of like my secret garden helpers.” She pointed to the tray she’d brought in. “Would you like to see how I feed them?”

“Sure.” Andrea nodded her head again. “How did you find them?”

Amelia retrieved the pitcher of pureed food and went to Number One’s stall. She set up the feeding tube and poured in the measured amount of breakfast.

“I don’t really find them,” she said as Andrea watched the liquid flow through the clear tube and into Number One’s mouth. “They seem to find me, when the time is right.” She moved to the next stall, and Andrea followed. Amelia fed Number Two, and then set the pitcher down to examine his head. To her delight, tiny little green leaves were emerging from the Chia seeds underneath the plastic.

“Would you like to see something neat?” she asked. Andrea. The girl nodded, and Amelia motioned for her to come closer. Carefully removing the plastic, Amelia lifted her up so she could see the seedlings.

“Wow!” Andrea said, her mouth pursing into a dramatic “O”. It had been a long time since Amelia had been around children. Too long, perhaps.

“Those are baby plants,” she said, putting the girl down. “Number Two is helping me start them, and if our experiment works, he’ll provide nutrients for them until they’re big enough to plant in the ground.”

Andrea’s eyes were wide. “Wow,” she said again. “He can do that?”

Amelia nodded. “I think so, but like I said, it’s just an experiment. And we can’t tell anyone just yet, in case it doesn’t work. Not even your daddy, okay?”

The girl nodded solemnly. “I won’t tell anyone. I promise. Can I come back and see when the plants are bigger?”

“We’ll see.” Amelia picked up the pitcher and went to Number Three’s stall. “Why don’t you help me finish my chores here, and then we’ll have lunch, if you don’t think your dad will mind.”

“He’s at work,” Andrea said. “And I don’t have school today.”

“Well then, that’s perfect. We’ll call and let him know where you are when we go in the house so he doesn’t worry. Now why don’t you grab that bucket and rake over there. You can help me tidy up the stalls a bit.”

---

 

It was four in the afternoon when she finally finished with Number Four. The backhoe needed work, but she’d managed to limp it along enough to dig out a hole in the compost mound and bury the parts that weren’t needed immediately. While she was at it, she’d turned the rest of the pile, satisfied with the heat coming off the collection of old leaves, grass, garden waste and other organic refuse. There had even been enough new soil under one end to fill a barrel and bring back to the house. She’d use it to refresh the soil in the vegetable gardens tomorrow.

She took a quick shower, scrubbing away the day’s labor and wondering how her chia experiment was doing. If the little plants sprouted, it would be ground-breaking, really. Another article to write up for the research files. Someday, she’d publish them and the gardening world would be turned on it’s head at their discoveries. It was the ultimate recycling program, really, as well as an alternate way to get use out of transients and prisoners. No reason they couldn’t be productive members of society after all, using the methods she and her husband had developed.

Toweling off, she dressed in clean clothes and went to the kitchen. After a quick sandwich for dinner, she prepared food for the brigade and went to the shed, anxious to check for any growth though she knew it was really too soon.

She fed the brigade and checked Numbers Two and Three for any signs of growth, but found nothing but little black seeds. She arranged them as comfortably as she could, but they would have to remain upright for the duration, which worried her. Chia was supposed to sprout within a couple of days though, so hopefully they’d be resting comfortably again before long.

She cleaned out the stalls and spread new straw, wistful when she got to the fourth enclosure. While she wasn’t anywhere near death yet herself, she just couldn’t see taking in another brigade member without knowing he or she would be cared for after Amelia was gone. It was her one regret in life, not having found someone who might want to keep the project going after they were gone.

Resigned, she cleaned and scrubbed out the stall until it was pristine, and then removed all the other apparatus used to keep the brigade members alive and functioning. Everything was thoroughly cleaned and sterilized before being stowed in a trunk near the door of the stall.

It was nearly ten by the time she finished, and when she finally locked herself back in the house, she was exhausted. A quick glass of milk and a couple of cookies she’d made the weekend before, and she was ready for bed.

The next morning she rose and prepared the brigade’s breakfast, not quite ready to eat yet herself. She walked out to the shed, her mind not yet fully awake as she approached the outbuilding and realized the door was ajar.

Amelia nearly dropped the serving tray when she peered through the small opening and realized someone was standing just inside...
 

---

She opened the door and smiled, trying to ignore her growling stomach.

“Good morning,” she said, smiling pointedly at the little girl before she looked up at the man. “What can I do for the two of you this morning?”

He returned her smile, his soft expression at odds with his muscular bulk.

“We were out walking, and Andrea here saw your roses. She has a question for you.” He turned to the little girl and nodded. “Go ahead.”

“I was just wondering if I could have one of your pretty flowers for my room. The pink ones remind me of my mom.” The little girl raised her eyebrows, big green eyes staring hopefully.

Amelia’s heart melted. “Of course you can, my dear. Let me just get my pruning shears and a damp paper towel to wrap the stems in while you carry them home.” She went to the kitchen and was back in two minutes, joining the girl and her father on the front sidewalk.

“The pink ones, you say?” Amelia asked. An enthusiastic nod from the little girl, and Amelia was on her knees. She cut one large, open bloom and several smaller blooms just beginning to open. Wrapping the ends, she secured the damp paper towel around them with a rubber band and presented the small bouquet to Andrea.

“There. I bet your mother will love those. Is she waiting for you at home?”

The girl’s eyes turned sad. “She doesn’t live with us anymore - she died. We’re going to visit her at the cemetery.”

Amelia blinked back tears. “I’m sorry to hear that your mother’s gone already. I hope the flowers bring you both joy. Did your mother grow roses?”

Andrea shook her head, dropping her gaze to the ground.

“We have one of her bushes left,” the dad said, putting a hand on each of the girl’s shoulder. “Unfortunately, I’m not very good with plants, so I’m afraid it’s just barely limping along. I’m sure it needs something, but I’m not sure what, exactly.”

Amelia started to stand,and the man helped her up. “If you can wait here for just another minute, I’ll be right back with something that will make your roses grow like gangbusters.” She followed the front path where it branched off toward the side of the house. Opening the cellar doors, she grabbed the flashlight that always sat just on the top step and went down into the cool dirt room. She retrieved a small jar and took it back up to the yard, handing it to the man.

“Now this is pretty potent stuff - I make it myself. Just sprinkle a third cup around the base of the plant once a week or even every two weeks, and water it in well. That’s all you need to do and your roses will be looking great in no time.”

Andrea smiled and clapped, as well as she could with the cut flowers in her hand, and the man smiled.

“How much do we owe you?”

Amelia shook her head with a slight laugh. “Oh nothing at all. It’s on the house.”

She waved at the man and his daughter as they walked away down the sidewalk. How lovely they’d been to chat with. Perhaps they’d stop by again some day, and let her know how the rose bush was doing.

With a long, wistful sigh, she went back inside and started to make breakfast, hoping she would still have enough time to dispose of Number Four and replace the fertilizer jar she'd given away.

---

The next morning Amelia got up with the sun and took a long hot shower. She found some Chia seeds in the cupboard and mixed them with a few tablespoons with water, letting them sit as she prepared the brigade’s food for the day. As the seeds absorbed water, they swelled, each growing into a thick, clear bubble around a tiny black heart. Together they formed a light paste, and Amelia took the pitcher and bowl out to the shed.

Once the morning chores were done and the brigade was upright once more, she prepped her subject’s heads by shaving them close and putting a thick band of toweling at the crown to catch any overflow. Then with a sharp knife she made tiny shallow cuts lengthwise across each scalp, about an inch apart. Taking her soaked chia seeds, she smeared the concoction over their heads just like on the commercials. When they each had a good layer mingled with the blood oozing from the shallow wounds, she fitted a clear plastic shower cap over each head, and then turned on the grow lights above, directing them slightly to the side to avoid overheating. Going to the desk, she got the instant camera she kept around just for such occasions and snapped a photo of them both, adding the pictures to the log book with a short entry for each. Her duties done, she turned her attention to Number Four, who seemed to be having a difficult time breathing.

“I’m afraid your time is about up, m’dear.” She’d left him prone in preparation for his death, and now she examined every inch of his skin, looking for any sign of disease or rot. Not that it mattered too much - he would be laid to rest in the bottom of their huge compost pile to return to the earth like those who had come before, but if there was no obvious sign of disease, she’d chip up his limbs for the flower bed first.

She sat back and stared at him for a moment, such a peaceful expression on his gaunt face. How long he would last was anyone’s guess - she’d seen them hang on for days in such a condition, but most only had a few hours. Checking her watch, she noted that it was still early. It took time and energy to butcher a body, but as long as she had a good breakfast and didn’t forget to stop for lunch, she should have time today.

Patting his shoulder, she went to the desk and made an entry into the logbook as to his disposal. Then with one last look at Numbers Two and Three to make sure the towel-bands were catching the blood, she went back to the house for breakfast.   

As she opened the back door she heard the doorbell ringing and frowned. Who on earth would be calling at such an early hour? She made her way through the house and peeked out the side window, surprised to find a rather large man holding hands with a pretty little girl on her doorstep.

---

“Wouldn’t it be fun if humans could grow plants on their heads?” she murmured, turning her attention back to the TV. It would be a wonderfully symbiotic relationship, like the bone meal she harvested for her roses, though that was more of a sacrificial relationship.

Stan came out of the kitchen, toolbox in hand. “There you go, Amelia. All fixed. Do I need to lecture you about washing off your gardening tools in the sink again?” He raised an eyebrow, looking stern though they both knew it was all an act.

She shook her head and coyly flipped her wrist down. “You know better than that, dear boy. But I’ll try to do better this time. What do I owe you?” She got up and went to the table by the door and got her wallet out of her purse.

“For you, twenty-five. And I want you to know that’s a special rate, so don’t go telling your friends.”

She laughed and pulled out the cash, handing him two bills. “It’ll be our secret. You’re too good to me, Stan. Now skedaddle so I can go make dinner. I still have some things to attend out in the shed tonight.”

He took the money and waved as he walked out the door, and she waited until he pulled out of the driveway to lock the door behind him. Checking the clock, she went to the kitchen and took the brown pitcher out of the fridge, then let herself out the back door.

When she reached the shed, Amelia set the pitcher on a table next to the door while she got the key out of her pocket. Glancing around her to make sure no one had come into the yard, she opened the padlock and hooked it through the metal clasp before grabbing the pitcher and going inside. Pulling the door shut behind her, she used a slide lock to ensure no one could enter, and then turned to what she liked to call her “garden brigade”.

“Hello boys,” she said with a smile. “It’s time for dinner!”

There was no response, but that was a good thing. Moving toward the first stall, she poured the thick concoction her husband had perfected into the feeding container and watched it run down the feeding tube and into Number One. The man twitched a little against his bindings - they all did at first, but the flow was regulated to go slowly so it wouldn’t gag the poor things.

She checked the bandage at the bottom of his left leg, where she’d harvested his foot two days ago. It hadn’t bled through, which was a relief, but she’d need to change the wrapping and make sure it wasn’t getting infected. The IV was still dripping steadily into his arm, delivering the herbal recipe she’d gotten from an eastern gentleman one year when they were traveling. It kept the brigade in a semi-comatose state, unaware of thier surroundings for the most part and free of pain. She’d added extra garlic to Number One’s mixture, to inhibit infection, and so far it seemed to be working.

Moving on, she fed the remaining three brigade members and then set the pitcher by the door. Picking up a small rake and shovel, she raked the small piles of excrement from each stall and put them into a bucket. Spreading fresh straw underneath the specially-made pallet beds, she tidied up each space and then helped each brigade member to lie down.

Early on in their studies, she and her husband had determined that changing positions during the day improved circulation and bodily functions, enabling the brigade members to live longer and be more productive. So every morning and evening they were repositioned, though she wouldn’t be able to do it for much longer. Her strength seemed to be waning and it made her want to cry. Her husband had left his work to her, but who would take over when she was gone?

Shaking off the depressing thought, she went to a desk at the far end of the shed and sat down, opening the log book and marking down her notes for the day. She thought for a minute, bringing the end of the pen to her lips. Scanning the entries again, she finally made a new notation for Numbers Two and Three before closing the book. Her last experiment would begin tomorrow. And after it was over, she’d write up her findings and lay the brigade to rest, once and for all.

---

Amelia glanced down the hall, where she could just barely see Stan’s bald head as he sat on the floor, one of the pipes from her sink in hand. Imagining what he’d look like with a thick, lush chia bed on his shiny dome made her smile.

---