RESURRECTED by Morgan Rice

just drop Scarlet off at school and pretend nothing ever happened?”
    Caitlin didn’t want to start a fight, but she couldn’t help it. She couldn’t just let this go.
    “What else are we supposed to do?” he asked. “She said she’s fine. The doctor said she’s fine.
    The nurses say she’s fine. All the tests show that she’s fine. She doesn’t want to go back home. And I don’t blame her. Why should she sit alone in her room all day, lying in bed, when she wants to go to school?
    “And frankly,” he added, “I think it’s a good idea. I think she should get on with her life. I think we all should,” he added, looking at Caitlin strangely, as if giving her a message. “It was a terrible day and night, not knowing where she was, or what really even happened. But she’s back to us. That’s all that matters. That’s all I care about. I want to put this behind us, and move forward. I don’t want to dwell on it. I don’t think it’s helpful for Scarlet to, either. I don’t want her to get some kind complex, to start worrying about herself, if she’s normal. I’m just so grateful that she’s back to us, and that she’s safe and healthy. That’s all that matters, isn’t it?” As he stopped and turned to her, the morning light lit up his large brown eyes; in them, Caitlin saw hope, desperation, and a pleading for her to say that everything was fine again, that they would put it all behind them.
    More than anything, Caitlin wanted to. As she looked into those eyes, she just wanted them to be happy. She really didn’t want to argue. But as much as she wanted to just shove this under the rug, she couldn’t. Her daughter’s life, her health—her future—was at stake. And so was the future of mankind. As unpleasant as it might be, she felt she had to get to the bottom of it.
    “I don’t think she should be rushing back to school so quickly, regardless of what she says, or the doctor says,” Caitlin said, hearing the determination in her own voice as she tried to stay calm. “I think she needs further testing. This doctor is a part of the establishment. Maybe she needs to see an alternative doctor. A specialist.”
    “What kind of specialist?” Caleb snapped back. “What kind of testing?” Caitlin shrugged. She wished she knew. She wished there was someone who could give her the answers she wanted, someone who could prove to her that she wasn’t crazy. As Caleb looked at her, she could see in his eyes that he, too, thought she was losing it.

    “I don’t know, exactly,” Caitlin said. “I’m not an expert. But there might be people who are.”
    “An expert in what?” he pressed, impatient.
    Caitlin was beginning to feel upset as she looked back at him.
    “How can you just stand there and pretend that nothing happened in that room? You can tell the cops, and the doctor, whatever you want, but between you and me, between the two of us, you know what happened. You know what you saw.”
    Caleb turned from her, impatient.
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.
    “Oh yes you do,” Caitlin said. “You saw what happened to our daughter. You heard her snarl.
    She threw you across the room—and there’s still a dent to prove it!”
    “So what!?” he snapped, at the end of his rope.
    “How do you explain it?”
    “You heard the doctor. Conversion syndrome. People get into altered states. They can do anything. It’s like a fit of hysteria, like he said. You hear stories of adrenaline rushes, of what people can do. It doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t prove anything.”
    “That was no adrenaline rush! And that was not Conversion Syndrome!” Caitlin shot back, his voice rising.
    “She had a high fever. She was in an altered state. It was like a form of sleepwalking,” he pleaded.
    “That was not sleepwalking!”
    “It doesn’t matter what you call it. Why harp on it? There is nothing wrong with our daughter!” Caleb yelled back, his voice rising several