Troy awoke minutes before the sun breached the horizon. He blinked himself steady in the dim, prelit room. Shadows casting shades of washed-out blue through the room.
Nick lay asleep on the bed across from him and Troy pushed himself slowly up off of the bed. He was half-glad it did squeak like he'd made point to avoid. He pulled himself into a sitting position and rubbed a hand down his bare chest.
Troy leaned down, using long fingers to snatch at the duffel strap at the end of his bed. He slid it across the floor to him, yawning and retrieving an olive colored tee shirt. He slipped it on and decided to change out of his pants from yesterday that he had slept in. He searched in the bag again, pulling out a pair of light-weight black cargo pants that were rolled and stuffed in haste into the duffel. He removed his slightly worn jeans he'd had on and stepped into the black pants.
A light jingle sounded on the pants' ascent towards his hips. He patted his pocket until he found the one that held the source. On his right thigh, the large snap-top pocket housed the multi-colored paper clip chain he'd made in town, the day after the dam. He smiled at this in the predawn light.
Troy then split the chain in half, sliding one half into his pocket again and draping the other over his left wrist. He sat back down on the bed and turned his wrist slightly inwards. He attempted to clasp it quickly, but gravity let it slide down the back of his hand repeatedly. The Otto boy brought his wrist to his mouth and let his lips pin the metal to his skin as he slid the other metal end through and clasped it together.
He pulled his hand away and shook his wrist. Troy let the jangle of the paper clip bracelet be his fanfare. He stood from the bed, simultaneously slipping into his boots as he stepped away. He was careful not to wake the younger boy.
Troy chose to empty his laptop satchel that was perched against the duffel bag. He pulled his notebook out from its claimed space in the zipper pocket. He reached into his own pocket and pulled out the other paper clip chain. He opened the cover of his notebook and retrieved the keys to the Anubis lock on their door at the Bazarr folded up in the first page. He attached the paper clips like some kind of key chain and slid the newly merged items into the zipper pocket.
He also loaded the satchel with a sleeve of crackers and a few water bottles. Nick would find whatever else he needed when he got back to their room. Just travel snacks. Nick could eat some crackers.
He flipped the cover back over the satchel and crossed the room to the door, slipping out just as the blue hues turned damp yellow.
Troy turned in the direction of the fence, heading towards the gate and eventually the Suburban Madison had elected for this trip. If Troy could load what Nick needed before he needed it, Nick only had to wake up, get dressed, eat something hopefully and be on his way. It would be more convenient for Nick, to have things just fall into place. No having to schedule, to plan. Troy could do this for him.
It would also be convenient to Troy. If Nick could leave on time, he could be back on time, or earlier if luck joined in. Troy slightly resented Nick for that. Leaving and making Troy stay. He brushed the thoughts from his head, idly running long fingers through his lengthy curls. He absently thought he needed it cut, as he closed the distance towards the gate.
To his surprise, it was slid open a few feet. He passed through the gate, and turned towards the small gravel parking lot they had arrived at just yesterday.
Lucianna sat perched on back bumper of the Suburban. There were a few black, cloth bags laying at her feet, and a few sat behind her on the back floor of the open hatch.
"What're you doing here?" Troy asked, one arm coming to rest on his hip, the other gripping the satchel strap.
"Packing for the day," she replied easily, sliding off the back of the vehicle and grabbing a few of the bags, tossing them in behind her. "Y tu? And you?" She asked, not interested in the conversation in the slightest.
"Same," Troy answered, and turned towards the passenger side of the vehicle. So Lucianna was the 'man' Madison was sending for the Orchard. Troy couldn't help but feel it was planned. Purposeful, from Madison in some way. He dropped the satchel through the open window and said nothing else as he walked back through the gate.
Troy turned off of the main road, cutting through one of the fields toward the gallery.
When he arrived, Nick was still asleep. The over cast, washed out color of the room had lifted, brightened into growing shades of gold, as it filtered the early morning light through the window-wall.
Troy slid a hand into the duffel again, retrieving two 'Kickstart' granola bars. He'd hope Nick would want to eat. Sometimes, he just didn't though. He walked over to where the young Clark boy slept, on his stomach, one arm under his head, the lower half of his left leg dangling off of the bed.
Troy brought his boot up and nudged him slightly. "Rise and shine, Nicky," he voiced, prodding Nick in the hip with his knee.
Nick blinked awake, rolling onto his back.
"What time is it?" He breathed, rubbing his eyes.
"Who knows," Troy replied, stepping back and tossing one of the bars onto Nick's chest. "Quarter past time to get up. I'd say."
Nick didn't reply, just grabbed at a water bottle laying on its side on the floor by his bed.
"Lucianna's going," Troy found himself saying as he took a seat on the edge of the lounger.
"With mom's envoy?" Nick queried, tearing the corner of the granola's wrapping.
Troy was glad for the sound. It meant he might actually eat it. Or stare at it. Crumbling the pieces idly. "She is your mom's envoy. Just you and her going. I went out there earlier, to drop a bag for you. She was loading the truck, too. Enough for a few days. But only for a few people. Just you and her."
Nick was befuddled. Although he didn't know, he felt the same as Troy. This was something his mother had done precisely. "It's done. We're gonna go, get the shit, get back and then we can go home, okay? Just trust me, I need you here. And in three days, we're gone."
Troy hated the idea. But, if he just let it happen, let it roll with the tide, then it'd all be over quicker. And with Troy here, eyes on the ground, he may just find out what exactly Madison is most likely concocting.
Nick knew this, too. That he needed Troy to stay, to watch, to observe. To assess and document. It was one of his things. And with his mother, there were always plans. Like Strand, there are always deals.
Nick pulled himself up from the bed, shoving half of the granola bar in his mouth. He washed it down with a long pull of water, tossing the other half of the bar onto his bed. Troy shook his head slightly, but said nothing, at least he had eaten half of it.
Nick pulled his boots on, readjusting the laces. After he had finished, the pair left the gallery, striding through the hilly fields towards the front gate.
As they approached, Troy noticed the gate closed, and one of the men from yesterday, Anderson, who Strand had addressed, perched on the crow's nest, gatekeeper post. He slid the pin up, allowing Troy to slide the gate open. He nodded to the man above him and passed through, Nick on his heels, hands in his pockets.
Lucianna sat atop the hood, using a small black knife to peel off sections of an apple. She looked up for a moment, but didn't approach the boys at the gate. She went back to slicing the apple.
"Nicky, you can't just go," Troy surprised him, stopping him at the gate, catching the younger boy's arm, gently.
"I have to," Nick said, turning back to him.
"Then let me go with you, not her," Troy pleaded with his eyes, his voice was calm.
"Lucianna is going for the Orchard, I'm going for us, El Matarife, our place." Nick thought of Strand in that moment, too, but, he left it out. It was just for Strand. "I need you here."
"I don't want to stay here without you. Or anywhere for that matter," Troy relented. He couldn't protect Nick if he wasn't with him.
"I need you here," Nick repeated. "You need to stay and watch her. Get back in either her and weed out the ulterior motive. There always is one with her."
"Reconnaissance," Troy offered, nodding, still displeased with the idea. "Recce. Be smart, Nick. You watch everything, too." He cut his eyes to Lucianna who had slid into the driver's seat of the suburban.
"I'll be okay," Nick assured, "And I'll be back. Just going home for a few days to swap. If I don't have me, El Matarife does."
Troy nodded, releasing Nick's arm, sliding his hand down and brushing Nick's a moment.
Then Nick was in the SUV turned van, seats ripped out for hauling. Troy watched him slide in, setting the satchel in his lap and pulling the door closed. He watched Lucianna pull away towards where they had made their home. And Troy was stuck here.
Troy turned back through the gate, picking at the paper clips at his wrist, walking up the main road, through the main building, and into the dome.
