Warm Bodies: The Answer

Tending Wounds

A choked noise left Rowan's throat, as the pain caved in his skull, and the kid's lingering terror drenched his body. He... he'd crushed that kid's head, in the small back room of the dad's apartment. Took his time... eating too... and the boy's memories were sogood he'd taken everything.

Something trickled down his face, warm and wet. Salty against the soft skin of his lips.

Blood.

The kid's?

He licked his lips and shuddered. No.

Nonono... Jesus... no.. my blood.

The pain pushed in again, and sounds from the outside pushed in with it. The drumroll of heavy rain against a metal roof, of water pouring and splashing in deep puddles.

Crying.

Eyes dim with pain, Rowan lifted his head, and the world slowly opened up to him again. But it didn't make sense. He was in a metal cave, lit by fire, Julie was lying in front of him... Julie was crying... she was hurt...

"Julie?!"

He reached for her instinctively, but froze as she jerked away with a little cry, her face twisted in pain and wet with tears.

She's so pale... blood on her face? Jesus, what...

"Don't touch me don't," she breathed in frantic grasps. As her eyes met his, her face collapsed in grief again. Shaking her head, she closed her eyes, the tears falling to the coarse canvas of the duffel below.

Rowan stared at her, stunned, his mind a fragmented, jumbled mess.

What happened? How'd I get here?

He'd been eating, right? It'd been so good... devouring a life spent on rich land and in the blue sky, the smell of tended earth, the warmth of sunshine on his back, the rush of flying, he'd wallowed in it as the kid's lifeblood gushed from the jagged hole of his shoulder, spreading into the carpet. Hadn't meant to rip the kid's arm off, but it'd stopped the fight quick... maybe he should do that from now on...

Rowan winced, and pressed a shaking hand to his temple.

No... stop that, that's old...

He focused again, trying to draw the scattered pieces together, and grunted at the crushing pain that spiked with the effort.

Flying... they'd been flying. Delivering supplies to the Davis Outpost. Laughing... arguing... and then, the storm. He'd blanked, couldn't fly anymore, didn't have the language... and he'd dug deep for someone who did and...

Slowly, Rowan turned to look out of the cave, his eyes seeking the starkly white remnants of the plane in the field beyond.

Holy shit.

They'd crashed. He remembered now, the kid he'd found inside. Remembered bringing them down hard... but alive. Images flashed behind his eyes in rapid succession - the violent impact, glass and mud flying. Coming finally to rest and freeing Julie...

Rowan's heart clenched tight, and he turned back to her in a panic, his eyes scanning her quickly. Broken arm, possible broken ribs, or something worse? Jesus, he'd made her pass out!

"Julie... I'm so sorry," he rasped, and reached for her again. The sight of his hand made him stop. Bloody, the creases of his knuckles lined in red, diluted by rain, and a jagged gash in his palm was seeping still. Now recognized, it started to hurt, stinging sharply as he watched the edges of the wound pull apart and close as he flexed his fingers.

"Brett was a good guy..."

He looked up at her. Julie's eyes were filled with tears as she spoke, fixing him with a sharp stare. "He saved us."