Warm Bodies: The Answer

Just Marcus

Marcus woke up.

For a moment, he stared at the blade of grass in front of his face in the pale twilight, and enjoyed the simple act of breathing.

And then he grew confused, and frowned, and stared at that blade of grass almost angrily, as his brows wrinkled in deep.

Wait... wasn't I dead a minute ago?

With a sudden gasp, Marcus jerked up, twisting to his side, to stare at the spot where the creature had last been. Where it had shuddered, and screamed as its head - a horrifically deformed version of his friend's passably handsome melon - arched up to the sky.

It wasn't there anymore... but...

"Rowan!" he cried, and crawled to his feet, only half registering the stirring of others around him, the wakening town, all of them living, breathing.

Well, except for that guy. The boney with no head they'd shot before. Or those.. pieces.. of people.. dressed in the shredded clothing of soldiers. Jesus. Or the guy with the mangled arm. His eyes were sightless, open to the sky.

Marcus focused on his friend, diving to Rowan's side. It was a horrible sight, and for a minute he didn't know what to do. Blood soaked the ground under his friend's head.. and his eyes were...

"Oh shit, buddy, don't be.." Marcus mumbled, his heart jumping as he reached for Rowan's pulse, all the while looking into his friend's open eyes, the whites flooded a dark red.

A tremble of a heartbeat under his fingers made him almost shout in relief, and he flopped back on his knees, letting loose a deep breath before leaning forward again, and shaking his friend's shoulder.

"Rowan, hey man," he said, his gaze tracing his friends outstretched arm, and the hand clasped tightly around Julie's. She was lying where Rowan had dropped her when he'd broken and split and stretched into that fucking horrible thing, and she looked... almost peaceful.

As he frowned, his eyes drawn to her still, pale face, Marcus released a heavy sigh.

It was so damn sad.

His gaze fell to her terrible wounds, to the gaping cut across her throat, the long gashes across her chest.

Which rose almost imperceptibly, before falling again.

Eyes bulging, Marcus jerked forward, shifting to Julie's side, even as people started climbing to their feet around him, some dressed as soldiers, some as weird Mennonite clones, and some.. well, completely naked and terribly thin. The thin ones stood listlessly in place looking terribly lost, as others wandered to find those they knew, and some circled just at the edge of his vision around the dead man staring up at the sky.

Names were called, in strangely stilted voices, and questions rose around him that he had no answers for, as he thrust his hand to Julie's throat, careful to avoid the deep gash across her neck. But he didn't even need the confirmation of her heartbeat, no matter how tremulous, as her chest, incredibly, rose and fell once more. A cry of utter, startled joy burst from him, and he lowered to give Julie a quick kiss on the forehead.

He grinned at his friend, who still hadn't stirred. "Rowan.. you did it buddy! You brought her back!"

But Rowan didn't respond. He just lay there staring with those terribly bruised eyes, curled on his stomach, one arm outstretched to Julie, the other lying still by his side.

The grin faltered, and Marcus shifted again, moving to shake his friend harder. "Hey. R, snap out of it."

"J-Julie?" came a wavering voice, and Marcus looked up to see the Colonel emerging from the milling crowd, some of whom had stopped to watch them now. The soldier's clothes were torn and soaked in blood, and his head was an absolute mess of caked gore, yet oddly, intact.