A loud banging woke Emmett up. He rose groggily and went to go fling open the front door to whoever was shouting. It was Jamie, Joseph's six year-old son, who was crying hysterically, blubbering.
"What?" Emmett knelt down and put his hands on the boy's shoulders. "Jamie, what's happening?"
"Dad collapsed!" He wailed. A cold fist grabbed Emmett's heart, and he stood.
"What do you mean?"
"He-he just started sweating and breathing heavily and-and-he stopped moving!" Jamie started to cry harder. Emmett took the kid's hand. "Jamie, take me to him." Jamie tugged him through the cold, empty streets.
At Joseph's house, his wife and daughter were sobbing over his still body on the kitchen floor.
"He's dead," His wife sobbed. Emmett saw Jamie's face crumple with despair, and he took the boy in his strong arms.
"Jamie. Listen to me. Everything's going to be alright. Okay? No matter what happens, it gets better." As he told the crying boy that, he tried to use his own words to convince himself, too.