Warm Bodies: The Answer

Just Marcus

Marcus wasn't too surprised. He'd seen John waver to his feet and stare down at himself in numb confusion not too long after blowing his own brains out. Just another one of the new, indestructible dead.

"She's alive John," he said, as the Colonel fell to his knees before his daughter, narrowly avoiding Rowan's body. John was shaking, trembling, as he scooped her into his arms, and when he saw their clasped hands he quickly grabbed a plastic tie from his pocket, zipping it over their palms, binding them together.

Marcus raised an eyebrow, anger rising in him quick. "What the fuck are you doing?" he snapped, reaching out to try and tug it off. "You arresting them now?! Jesus, you're such an ASS!"

John knocked his hand away and gave him a look that froze him in place. "I'm trying to keep them alive Marcus. Fuck off."

And then the Colonel closed his eyes, and he let out a loose, shaky breath, and when he opened them again, the hard edge had fallen away, replaced with something unexpectedly fragile.

"Thanks for... saving my life... for trying to help," he said quietly. His hand rose slowly to the side of his head, to the caked remains blown free by the self-inflicted blast. Scraping it away roughly, he stared at what fell from him for a long moment before his gaze rose to Marcus again.

Marcus stared back at him, stunned. The look the man was giving him was something he'd never seen in John's face before. Something desperate and deeply regretful.

"Please," the Colonel said, sighing as he drew his arms around his daughter. "Please don't tell her what I did."

And Marcus found himself shaking his head, because there was no joke he could crack here, no way to shrug off what the man was giving him.

His trust.

"I won't," Marcus said simply. And he smiled.

And the Colonel smiled back, something sincere and appreciative, before coughing as he looked down at his daughter, and Marcus quickly looked down at his friend, as everything grew suddenly awkward.

And he frowned, because Rowan was still staring away.

At nothing.

"Something's really wrong with him, I don't know..." Marcus mumbled, and mindful of Julie and R's clasped hands, he pulled his friend up against his lap.

Rowan's mouth parted, but his expression stayed empty. Drying blood ran in dark streaks down his face and throat from everywhere blood could leak.

And Marcus was terrified, because when he peered down deep into his friend's eyes, he didn't see anyone there at all.

"I've got you R," he said quietly, as he held his best friend gently. "Hang in there buddy. We're going to take you home."

Just like I promised.

At the thought, Marcus sat bolt upright, almost dumping Rowan from his lap. John looked up at him, startled, and Marcus gave him a huge grin.

"The helicopter!" he yelled, and setting R aside carefully, he jerked to his feet and swiveled in place, getting his bearings. Then he sucked in a big breath. "Okay everybody!" he roared, "Clear some space - I'm about to land a 412 on all your asses!"

Everyone turned to stare at him in various stages of dull confusion to outright shock, and absolutely nobody moved, save one. The kid he'd passed on his way to John when all hell'd broke loose. The one who'd been staring down at the dead guy with the mangled arm, his face set in stone.

The man walked up to him, and the crazy grin slipped from Marcus' face as he stared into the guy's eyes and saw someone dead inside looking back.

"I'll take care of it," the man said flatly, then those eyes turned away as he glanced down at Julie and R, and Marcus felt an odd rush of relief. The man's hand rose then, though he did not look back, and he pointed into the thick of the crowd. "His father is there somewhere too. Might need help."