Warm Bodies: The Answer

The Promise

Caleb stared at his father, unable to think, unable to move, feeling detached and disoriented, and afraid. He was distantly aware of his brother yelling behind him and grabbing his arm, but couldn't look away from his father's eyes. They bore into him, as hard and as sharp as flint. Glaring at him as if he were a stranger.

And the word just popped out.

"D-dad?"

As soon as it left his mouth, Caleb felt his brother's hand clench tight on his arm, and realized it may not have been the smartest thing to say.

Samuel's brown eyes shot wide open at the word, then his heavy brows lowered darkly as his mouth twisted in a sneer.

"Joshua," he said sharply, his voice rough. His eyes never left Caleb's, and never softened, though confusion had joined the hardness there.

And Caleb suddenly realized that his dad didn't recognize him. Couldn't recognize him. And the strangest, most wonderful feeling of relief rose in the hazy mess of his mind.

"Yes sir?" his brother answered, and the grip tightened on Caleb's arm.

Ouch.

"Explain."

Joshua shifted beside him. "Uh."

Caleb stood there, swaying slightly. He felt like throwing up. Not just because his father was staring him down with a naked malevolence, but because his thoughts were floating around his head like drunken bees. His body felt like it belonged to someone else.

That's 'cause it does.

No no... not thinking about that...

"Joshua," Samuel growled, this time low and drawn out. A warning. Those hard eyes flicked away from Caleb to settle on his brother, bringing another rush of relief.

"This is... Eric," Joshua said quickly. "He's been examined, he's clean, been hit on the head... little confused..."

Joshua's voice trailed off as Samuel raised a finger, and cocked his head back towards a group of soldiers standing near the truck.

"Morrisey, Denning!"

Two of the soldiers stepped forward, one with pale blue eyes and a thick black beard, one much older, whose greying buzz cut was just visible under his crammed down cap.

"Morrisey, take Eric down, check him for the mark."

The bearded man nodded, caught Caleb's eye, and gestured down the stairs with the muzzle of his rifle. "Move it."

Caleb stared at the muzzle, his eyes wide, his head thick, and turned to go, but Joshua held his arm tight.

"Dad, I said he's clean, he's-"

"Denning," Samuel continued, giving his son a warning glare, "Go get Doc Adams, let him know we've got wounded, one badly."

"Yes sir."

"Doc's dead," Joshua blurted out.

Everyone froze for a moment, and all eyes turned to Joshua.

Caleb's mouth fell open. "What?"

Doc's dead?

"Repeat that," Samuel said in a low voice.

Joshua opened his mouth to answer, and at that moment, Foley walked up to the group with another man in tow. He gave Samuel a sharp salute, then nodded to Joshua. "Mr. Burnett as ordered. I've told him to take extra care, sir."

Caleb stared at the portly red man behind Foley for a moment before it clicked. Mr. Burnett. The town undertaker.

It is true... Doc... His heart squeezed in his chest, as tears crept up on him suddenly.