THE CHOSEN ONES — PART 5
Benjamin's hands on Alicia were too rough. He seemed to have none of the gentle kindness the other people here had shown her in their own strange way. She knew there should have been pain from her already bruised throat and head, but she felt nothing. As if she had ascended to a state of being where pain was no longer an issue. And that helped. But his hands… they roamed her body in a mad frenzy, seeming to multiply the more he trespassed, covering every inch of her as if he had the right to do so. As if she belonged to him.
Alicia didn't understand how it happened, but like in a nightmare, the person behind her was no longer Benjamin. It was a different man entirely. Older. Smaller. But someone who frightened her much more.
Proctor John.
"You're coming with me to Texas, aren't you?" he whispered.
She shook her head fervently, her heart racing, tears welling in her eyes for what must have been the hundredth time today.
"Oh yes, you are," John continued in that dangerously soft voice of his. "Because if you don't your family will suffer. I'll kill them. Starting with your brother."
He raised his gun and pointed it in front of them, at someone who had been approaching without her noticing. Nick.
No, no, no…
"I don't want to…" she whispered pathetically, which only made John tighten his hold on her throat until she could barely breathe. Instinctively, she clawed at his hand, but it seemed to make no difference.
"You will. Either way. You belong to me, Alicia Clark."
He cocked his gun, readying it, and she panicked.
She reached behind her, between the two of them, and found his crotch, squeezing him as hard as she could with her fingers. He yelped, either in pain or surprise, and reared back, firing the shot up into the sky.
The extra weight from the second body landing on top of the man who'd been trying to bury his knife in Troy's gut surprised them both, temporarily driving the fight in his favor and the blade through Troy's side. Troy expelled a gasp of hurt and wrenched the handle from the man's unexpectedly slack hand, blood soaking Troy's face and neck as he ripped it from his body, his eyes rolling.
Troy shoved the both of them off, scrambling from beneath them, ignoring the sting in his side and the warm blood he could feel soaking into the waistband of his pants.
The man wasn't a threat anymore.
Troy picked up the rifle, seeking Nick and Alicia amongst the frenzy of living and dead. More had risen, making him think that maybe this red tent did in fact have some weird supernatural energy source.
But the group hadn't lost just yet and were still inelegantly holding the dead off.
Troy zeroed on the man aiming his gun at Nick, saw his face contort with pain as Alicia did something, and his bullet go high. Troy pulled the trigger. The man's shoulder exploded and half his neck and a quarter of his face disappeared. Troy took out the dead around them, attracted by the racket they were making defending themselves, stopping only once he used the last bullet and was forced to set the rifle aside on the ground.
Troy jumped into the weave of disarray, slashing at the living preoccupied with the wasted, working his way through the bodies for the woman he had seen screaming her demands and struggling to maintain her poise.
Like in some crazy movie sequence, the hulk's shoulder busted a shower of blood and bone, he started to cant back. Nick pulled Alicia to him, hugging her as they backed away from the tent.
The leader woman's voice reached him, but Nick could not make out the sense. He didn't care. He was trying to find Troy. It was close to impossible in the mess that was like some ancient orgy of blood and gore around a bonfire. More bodies were on the ground rather than still on their feet, but shots still fired.
There was a figure waving a knife in another scuffle that Nick recognized.
"Troy!" he called. "We should go! Now!"
Nick felt his body was giving in little by little, as if dying in parts because die at once it couldn't afford. He felt no more pain in his arm, but it was as heavy as a whole world. He raised the gun and took a shot, anyway. It hit someone's arm, and the swing of a machete that was going to nick Troy went into another arch as the body fell down.
"Troy!" he yelled again. Troy looked at him. Nick had no energy to convince, and even through his haze, he saw Troy's bloodthirst at full play.
From the corner of his eye, Nick saw movement, and turned to face it, automatically pushing Alicia behind him. Three women in white were on him, clutching at his arms, wrestling the gun from his fingers. And the older woman was approaching, a knife in her hand. Nick couldn't tell if it was the same dagger or not, but felt the same kind of helpless exhaustion he had when the blade was in his sister's hand.
He squeezed the trigger; the gun fired, and one of the girls squealed falling down. Her skirt was becoming dark with blood as she wailed on the ground like a scared hyena.
The leader woman didn't even flinch. One of the two girls hung on his arm, clutching at his hand on the gun, making it impossible to shoot again. The older one raised the knife.
"The ritual should be completed," she hissed, a ghost of the smile she displayed before her little paradise went to hell touched her mouth.
Proctor John's head exploded and sprayed Alicia with warm blood, his hold on her instantly faltering. And suddenly she was in Nick's arms, being pulled away once more. While moving everything was too confusing, shapes and colors merged and blended together until she couldn't even be certain if she was really awake anymore. Maybe she had died and this was some sort of hellish afterlife where everything was chaos.
Nick pushed her away suddenly and Alicia had to take hold of her head to keep the world from spinning wildly, closing her eyes to try and ground herself and keep her mind from floating away in a foggy haze.
"The ritual should be completed."
Those words rang inside her skull, bounced around like a tennis ball until all she could hear was the same monotone sentence over and over.
She opened her eyes to see Nick wrestling with two girls, and a third advancing on him. It was the Leader. The Head-Bitch. She had found Alicia's knife and seemed intent on slashing it across her brother's throat.
No thinking was needed. If this was a nightmare, it was her nightmare, and Alicia got to decide how it ended.
She ran at the woman, driving her shoulder into the leader's wounded one and knocking them both over. The Leader groaned in pain and Alicia from nausea, feeling as if she was about to throw up. But there was no time for that. They grappled for the knife, and when it became clear the Leader would win, Alicia drove her fingers into the wound she had inflicted on the woman earlier, clawing and squeezing at the flesh until the woman was forced to relinquish her hold on the blade to try and fight Alicia off.
Alicia dove for the weapon, pressing her knee to the woman's throat, practically climbing over her in the mission to reclaim the knife. And she did. She grasped it by its sharp edge, unable to reach the hilt, and turned to slam the blunt end against the woman's temple. The Leader cried out again, but didn't still.
Fumbling to turn the knife the right way round while the woman squirmed beneath her, she finally managed in her task and drove it into the woman's skull.
The Leader's eyes were wide open, and they remained like that. Glassy and dead.
Alicia watched her a long time, mindless of the deep cut to her palm and that she was adding more blood to her clothes. The dead woman's eyes were just so pretty. Shining like pearls. Someone should have made them into a necklace.
Nick's voice was temporarily lost on Troy and then it wasn't, blaring through the crowd like a horn, driving Otto into motion, an arm coming up to shield his abdomen from the swinging machete. Only it clattered to his feet like a gift. Wasting no time, he bent to retrieve it and swung it upward, catching the man between the legs, a malicious smirk touching the corner of Troy's mouth as he forced it into a deeper arch, taking every ounce of vengeance out on this one figure. He didn't split like he might have in one of those overly dramatic Jason horror movies where the guy had some weird supernatural hulk strength, but something did happen. His guts filled his pants and spilled between his legs like macabre tinsel.
He dropped and cleared the way to another scene. Alicia on top of the lady Troy had been pursuing.
Troy started toward them hurriedly, intending to help her and getting there just as she plunged the knife into the woman's skull.
Unlike war stopping once you cut off the king's head, this battle seemed only to intensify while the team morale dwindled away into nothingness.
The whole fact went over Alicia's head as she stared down at the body beneath her.
Troy frowned, unsure of what was going on, and made to grab her shoulder, to get her to her feet, to get her moving and away from what would soon be an all-out homage to the wasted. She didn't come easy, unable to read the encouragement, her eyes almost as glassy as the woman she'd killed.
Is she high?
"Alicia. Move!" Troy snapped, hopeful that might be enough to spur her into action, free hand glued to her arm while simultaneously trying to get to Nick.
Alicia, Troy, the girls still hanging on his arms like dead weights… All spun around Nick, making him nauseous. The fire flashed in his face like some blinking light aiming to drive him out of his mind completely.
Troy's voice blaring next to him shoved him out of his incoming blackout, holding it back enough for Nick to scrape the remaining strength and jerk his arms to free himself from the girls. They scurried to their fallen leader, weeping, and neither had the time to run when one of the dead swooped in on them. His teeth found one's shoulder while another screamed like a fire alarm.
Wincing, Nick caught Alicia's arm again while her other was in Troy's grip.
"We need to go now," he called to Troy, this time seemingly reaching Otto's understanding.
It was much darker among the trees, but it felt better on Nick's tired eyes. Only now he wanted to let them close thousand times as bad. He no longer knew how his legs kept moving and placing one foot ahead of the other, how they still managed to trot away, and soon the cacophony of screams was a faint memory behind their backs.
The trio reached for the opening and went along the slope, moving toward where the car had to be. It took them forever, but they found it. The body Troy had dropped beside it earlier today was gone.
The boys helped Alicia to the backseat, closed the door, and Nick leaned against it, catching his breath. His vision got better after the dark of the woods, and the moonlight was bright enough. The crazies had picked an almost full moon for their ritual.
Alicia looked down at her bleeding hand, fascinated by the gash oozing blood without the normally accompanied pain.
Definitely a nightmare. Can't be real.
She pressed her palm to the cool window and watched it get smeared with crimson, hoping to see the same pretty colors and sparkles from before. But they didn't appear this time. It was only dark. And that darkness grew and closed in on her. It was going to swallow her whole.
She closed her eyes and covered her ears with her hands, murmuring, "You gotta wake up. Wake up, Alicia."
Nick regarded Troy, noticing that he wasn't all that perky, anymore, his hand pressed to his side.
"You okay? Please tell me you didn't get bit."
Troy's fingers dabbed at the wetness like a lazy nurse. He didn't have to see the wound to know that he was going to need a few stitches.
"I'm fine. It's just a scratch," he replied.
Nick didn't believe it was, but they needed to get to some sort of safety before starting to lick their wounds.
Despite the moonlight, Troy couldn't make Nick out in the dark but he could remember that Clark looked like shit and like he was in serious need of medical attention. "Let's get out of here."
Troy didn't want to linger any longer than was necessary.
He peered into the car when he saw Alicia's hand come up, a mess of liquid that could only be blood smearing across the inside of the window, a brief touch as if she were a painter.
"What the hell did they do to your sister?" he asked, noting her abrupt change in demeanor, gesturing for Nick to get in beside her, to provide some comfort with his presence.
Troy's question directed Nick's attention back to Alicia who was smearing blood all over the window and acting weird.
"I've no idea," Nick admitted honestly and followed his mute instruction to get in beside her.
She was muttering to herself, and it barely made any sense. Although she seemed to understand herself, at least. It scared Nick profoundly. He had never seen her like that. He was never meant to see her like that, and it felt like a twisted strike of karma for all the past sins he committed in regards to her.
Troy moved to the other side, gripped the weapons bag and threw it into the passenger seat in front. He removed a handgun, checked it and then slipped into the driver's, throwing the car into reverse and then into a light spin to turn them around.
He only had one place in mind that they could go to.
The cabin – the one they had claimed – where Fido patiently waited trapped in the garage.
Nick brushed a hand across Alicia's cheek gently when Troy started to drive, barely seeing her in the dark. "Alicia, listen to me, Lisha. Are you hurt?"
Alicia vaguely registered someone joining her in the car but didn't have it in her to open her eyes until she heard Nick's voice and felt his touch. She looked at him, her breathing erratic, until she realized the black hole that had been trying to pull her in had disappeared.
"There's no pain," she said, but suddenly found that to be a lie. "And yet there's so much of it."
It was hard to make out Nick's features in the darkness, but she did spot the patches of blood on his skin and clothing, a very deep gash on one of his arms close to his shoulder. She didn't touch it, but stared for a long while before she managed to pull her gaze back to his, her face cracking in absolute horror.
"Did I do that to you?"
It didn't seem impossible. There had been a knife and she had used it on Nick. Hadn't she? Why would she do such a thing? It didn't make sense.
She grasped the front of his shirt and lowered her voice, unable to make out the person in the front seat, worried it might be one of "them".
"Nick, you have to run. They said they wouldn't hurt you, but I think they're lying. You have to get away."
It was absolutely surreal. The more she said, the more Nick felt the same sort of shift still happening in his exhausted mind that turned reality into something vague, like visions in a mist, rather than something solid. His weariness turned into a high of sorts, and he wasn't going to be much help to her until he managed to pick himself up, however that could be achievable at all.
He tried to draw her closer to him to hug in desperate hope of soothing her racing mind. "We got away, Lisha, we did. You're safe now. You didn't do anything wrong. You saved me."
She leaned into him, giving in to his silent insistence to hug her. It wasn't unpleasant. In fact, it was rather nice. He was warm, and she was so very cold.
She pulled her feet up on the seat and covered them with the hem of her dress, trying to make herself more comfortable and to relax against her brother's side. It seemed like one of those moments where she was expected to fall asleep. Maybe even supposed to? But she couldn't. She was wide awake, and even if Nick said she was safe she knew she wasn't. How could she be when her nightmares had come to life?
Troy stuck to the road because he knew no other way, flipping the lights on and off to catch sight of the road's bends, to see what was ahead and to prevent nabbing constant attention of anyone of the sect followers who'd managed to escape and where out there scrambling for their lives.
He still wasn't sure who was part of what and if Katie was only one pawn in a pretty extensive group. Her family was probably looking for her now and who knew how armed they'd be?
He wished he hadn't lost his rifle.
When they hit the road leading around the trailers, he pulled off the side and parked out of sight. They had a few medical supplies but nothing that they'd need like a sewing kit.
These assholes were hippies, so if they didn't have the medical suture kit, they'd have something else with thread.
"Stay with Alicia, Nick," Troy said as he got out, saving the Clarks an argument and question, leaning in at the door to make sure Nick heard and understood this was a simply five minute solo mission. "You have your gun?"
Nick didn't like it in the slightest, but had nothing to object with. "No, the gun is gone."
Troy freed up the collection he'd gathered from the hillside, dropping them on top of the weapons bag, offering Nick the one he'd snatched off the two bodies from the trailer and knew was loaded. "I'll be five minutes."
He held it over the back of the chair so that Nick could take it and when he did, Troy turned off the ignition to kill the lights, shut the door, and started away from the two in direction of the portable holiday homes.
As soon as he stepped into the clearing, he was met with a low warning growl and the sight of the dog that had fled before chowing down on the side of one of his many owner's faces.
Nature was a fickle bitch.
"I'm not interested in your spoils, Cujo," Troy remarked with a slight smirk of amusement, steering clear of the dog entirely as he entered the first trailer and found a battery powered light shaped like a lantern. He switched it on, thankful to find that it had a fair amount of juice, and ripped the place apart. Drawers flew and cupboard doors opened with a bang.
When he was done, the place looked had been thoroughly ransacked. He had everything he thought they'd need to get them through the night and more. He'd return for the rest tomorrow or the next day.
Troy started out of the trailer with the lamp in hand, everything secured in a pillowcase, and practically ran the short distance to where he hoped Alicia and Nick were still waiting in the car.
It definitely wasn't five minutes. It had to be more, so much more that stretched into a small eternity of Nick's trying to not pass out. It was an impossible task, much like every other one had been that day.
Alicia was leaning into him, still, but scarcely willing to doze off. She was probably hyped, and it was not in his favor. He needed to tap into some hidden resources he never knew he had. At least all those New Age junkies used to preach it but he never had a chance to learn that amazing skill, if it even was real, to begin with.
By the time Troy returned, Nick felt thoroughly stoned out of his mind with how tired he was. He never knew that kind of tired was possible for anyone to feel and still be conscious.
"Honey, I'm home!" Troy announced as he steadily approached, making sure Nick wouldn't mistake him for someone else in the dark and end up shooting. Not that he thought Nick would, but by now the adrenaline might be wearing off and trauma could play with a man's mind.
Troy popped open the door, dropped the stuff onto the floor of the passenger side, and turned on the ignition. He pulled out of the makeshift parking spot and continued toward the cabin.
When he finally parked, Nick pushed the door open, climbed out feeling like he was a hundred and twenty-one years old. Alicia reluctantly followed. It was nice to feel some fresh cool air on his skin.
Oh, how he wished to just lie down on the grass and drift away.
It was already so cold in the car that stepping out seemed to Alicia like a bad idea. But Nick was insistent and she indulged him, mostly because he looked so awful she worried he might cry if she didn't.
She reached out to touch his hair, gently brushing it away from his bruised head. "You should go sleep. I'll be okay."
Even amongst the chaos in her head, she understood the only reason he hadn't passed out already was because of her. Because he was scared of what would happen if he wasn't watching her. But he needed rest. And she would not be the one to keep him from getting it.
Her gaze turned to the man who rummaged through the jeep. It was Troy! She briefly remembered having seen him in the forest, but then he'd gone. Had he run all this way, chasing the car? All that soldier training must have really benefited him.
Troy shoved as much of what he'd grabbed from the trailer into the weapons bag, claimed the keys and vowed to drive the car somewhere. It didn't feel right having it parked outside their temporary safe haven. Someone, anyone who'd survived might notice it if they accidentally happened this way, and the night would take on an even longer turn. He linked an arm through the straps, shut the door and regarded his friend and his sister as they attempted to make their way toward the cabin.
"Troy!" Alicia hadn't intended to be so loud, but her volume seemed to have taken on a life of its own.
Troy could feel her. He'd been there. What you did on high was hard to control.
Alicia allowed herself a moment to adjust before continuing in a much calmer tone, arms wrapped around herself to shield from the cold, a thoughtful expression on her face. "I know I make you hard in life."
That's not what she meant to say. She frowned and tried again.
"I know I make your life hard."
That was better. More along the lines of what she'd been thinking.
"And you could have left me to die. But you didn't. And that was nice."
Troy laughed in spite of himself at her poor choice of wording.
"I'm a nice guy, Alicia," he retorted, winking as he caught up with the two. Nick looked about ready to collapse and, to combat his exhaustion, Troy hooked his free arm around Nick's waist, saying nothing and making no fuss about the action, simply doing it and hopeful Nick would accept the help.
Nick could have laughed at Alicia's little attempt at gratitude, but he had no energy for that. All that came was a smile and a soft chuckle. He didn't fight Troy's arm, either. There was nothing in him capable of any resistance or effort, whatsoever. Especially while seeing the cabin in front of them. They were almost there. Almost free to rest a bit.
Alicia smiled, contemplating climbing the stairs to the cabin, but stopped because they were moving too much. She would have to wait it out.
Something banged in the garage.
"Help!" a small voice called. "Please!"
Nick stepped out of Troy's arm, eyeing him incredulously. "What is it, Troy?"
"I think the horse is hungry," Alicia said to no one in particular, wandering that way to take care of it. She had an apple earlier, but she couldn't remember where it had gotten to. It would have been perfect now.
Troy's eyes hit the sky as soon as the familiar voice started banging away at the garage door and Nick's attention wavered toward it. Fucking hell. Couldn't she just have died in there?
Not that Troy wasn't planning to get to that portion later.
"It's what Alicia said. The horse," he retorted, shrugging off the weapons bag, swung it and flung it onto the porch where Alicia stood glued to place. He had no idea what she was doing, but at least she'd gotten further inside than her brother. "I'll tend to that later. Let's just get you inside. You're bleeding from just about every hole."
Nick didn't even want to listen to any of it. He headed for the garage, gritting his teeth as he gathered the last of whatever resources he still had someplace in his body. He pulled the garage door open and was nearly swooped off his feet with the horse – their buddy – that hurried out and immediately followed his call of nature.
Katie sat on the floor, her face wet with tears. Nick couldn't see if she was injured, but he wouldn't put it past Troy.
"Pleaaase," she wept, her body shuddering so badly she almost fell on her side if Nick hadn't supported her.
"It's okay, Katie, I'll take you home," he said, reaching behind her to feel the restraints. The knots were too tight. He turned to his companions. "Give me a knife."
Alicia trailed after her brother, curious and frightened at the same time. There was something familiar about the girl's face but Alicia couldn't place it. At Nick's request for a knife, she patted herself down and found no weapons, then looked to Troy for help.
Katie's weeping was of no significance. Troy felt nothing. She deserved every bit of isolation and terror she felt. After all, they weren't the first people she'd fed to the sharks.
"You're in no condition to play hero, Nick. She's not going anywhere." Troy sighed and gently reached for Alicia's arm as not to spook her, refusing to get him a knife, routing her away from her brother and the trembling girl. "Let's get you guys inside, patched up and we'll talk about what to do about her. This fight can wait."
All Nick managed instead of The fuck is wrong with you was a ragged sigh.
It wasn't a rope around her ankles. Some fabric tied in knots. He pulled her shoes off, then yanked and tugged at the ties until he slipped one loop off, and then the rest loosened. Having a feel of what it was, he managed to free her wrists even faster. Her hands looked completely pale in the poor starlight. And utterly cold. Like her feet.
And she wept and wept, couldn't stop at this point. She was exhausted in her own way, Nick could sympathize.
He climbed to his feet and pulled her up as well. She wasn't steady, and he had to support her as they walked from the garage to the cabin. Katie was weeping harder, her whole body shaking against his, filling him with helpless pity. He was mad at her before, but now there was only pity. Nick helped her to the car, helped her into the shotgun seat.
"The keys," he turned to Troy, extending a hand. "No laters, no tomorrows, just give me the keys."
Nick all of a sudden had an inordinate amount of strength. Opening the garage door, untying the crying traitor and even going so far as to help Katie into the car Troy had planned to get rid of.
And now he wants to take her home?
Alicia's gaze stayed on Nick as he helped the girl. It seemed the right thing to do, of course, but somehow she was still failing to completely understand what was going on. The girl was crying, like Alicia had been crying. And that made Alicia hurt for her.
"Nick, you can barely stand," she murmured when he demanded the keys from Troy, worried her brother was going to get himself hurt even worse than he already was. "Can't she stay the night? I'll take care of her."
Before Troy could answer, Alicia made surprising sense.
At least in theory.
"Listen to Alicia. Katie's fine spending the night in the garage. Besides… what are you going to tell her parents? Oh, sorry my friend kidnapped your daughter after she drugged us… I just wanted to do the right thing and bring her back? Get real. Get rest. You're too tired to think clearly. We all are."
He walked Alicia over to the bottom of the porch by the rugs, releasing her once he knew she was steady on her feet, to go and retrieve the horse, walking him back over to the garage while Nick decided what to do.
"She goes home now, whether I have to drive her or walk her there," Nick said. "Give me the damn keys. Please."
Troy slipped the horse back into the confines of the garage, shoving him as he'd done before, sealing him inside with airy ease.
If Nick wasn't going to listen to reason and wanted to play the hero, he could figure it out his damn self.
Troy returned to Alicia and guided her toward the porch steps, encouraging her to climb. "I want to get inside. I need a drink."
Nick pulled the girl from the car and after him as he walked. She seemed to be eager to get away from Troy, whether on foot or in the car.
She must have caught on how tired Nick was and helped him with the garage door.
"Get up there," he said. She wanted to argue, Nick could see it in her face. But then, she did. It took her a lot of efforts, but he resisted the urge to help her up. He didn't want to collapse here. It was not the time.
Once she was up, Nick started walking. The horse didn't have to be pulled, he was as eager to move as the girl was to get away.
Alicia watched her brother fussing over the girl in the garage, flabbergasted. Where was he even taking her? Where did she come from?
"We can't let him go on his own," she said, one hand wrapped around Troy's wrist, whether to hold his attention or stop him, she wasn't sure. "He'll get hurt worse. And the dead are out there. I saw them. They're angry. Travis. Jake. They're all very angry."
Troy didn't want him going out there on his own, and Nick appeared to be doing everything in his power to fight it. Troy shouldn't be surprised. It was his nature.
"Don't take the horse," Troy supplied, squeezing Alicia's bicep in support, a gesture he assumed might go over her head considering how high she was, and the fact that she was seeing the dead. "It's dark and you have no fucking clue where you're going." He descended the stairs and started toward the two. "You want to go, then take the damn car."
Troy glared at the girl on top of the horse, practically shoving the keys into Nick's hand.
"If you're not back in an hour or even by morning, I'm coming after you. We crystal on that, kid? You touch one more hair on his head and I'll be sacrificing you to the Gods."
Katie barely looked at him, her gaze transfixed on Nick as if he were the center of her world and would protect her.
The little cunt.
Troy removed the hand from the leather straps, gripped her scrawny leg and then her clothes and yanked her off the horse's back. She gave a yell of terror, and then of pain, as one knee hit the ground, skinning itself in the process, almost twisting an ankle as he hauled her to her feet.
"Give Rosemary my best and tell her I look forward to tasting our bread."
When Troy let her go, he was sure he could smell fresh urine. He smiled to himself, pleased, petting the horse's muzzle, murmuring a reassurance to settle his frayed nerves, and then led him back to the garage.
Nick didn't see that coming, and, despite his exhaustion, he felt his anger flare.
"Just stop being such an asshole for fucking once," he hissed, helping the girl up. She was weeping again.
He just couldn't let this one slide, couldn't leave Katie to a night of terror and anxiety. She might have been playing a malicious part, using her innocent face to the monsters' advantage, but she was just a confused kid. Nick couldn't stop seeing it. He didn't want to stop seeing it.
She was back in the passenger's seat, crying quietly. Nick turned the car around and turned the lights on as he drove. It took about five minutes to come up to the ranch. Two riders appeared in the headlights, guns aiming as they tried to see through the glare. Nick dimmed it, then killed the engine.
"Tell them it's fine," he said. "I'm not playing a captive for the second time today, I've had enough to last me a year."
She nodded and opened the door, stepping out. "It's me, uncle George, I'm fine. It's okay. Don't shoot!"
"Katie!" George lowered the gun, so did another one – Matthew, Nick thought, was his name. "Are you okay? We've been looking all over for you! What happened?"
"Timmy! How's Timmy?"
George slipped off the horse and hugged the girl to him. "He's gonna be fine, but t'was a bad cut. He refused to tell what happened, we all were so worried about you – he asks for you all the time."
Nick forced himself to step out of the car, propping his forearms on the top of the door. Katie shot a scared glance at him, much like when he caught her in the middle of the night.
"You gonna tell them what happened or you want me to?" he asked her.
She seemed paler once again. Like all color went out of her face.
"It's okay for them to know," he added softly, hoping to pull at some strings in her that should be there. "They love you, and those people back there don't know the meaning of the word. They used you. They lied to you. It's not your fault, you just got confused. You can fix it by telling your family what's been happening. Please, Katie. It's okay. It's safe to tell now."
"What…" George uttered, looking thoroughly dumbfounded. "What is going on here?"
Katie hid her face in his chest and wept. He looked at Nick, his face stern.
"Did your friend Troy do something to 'er? Did he? Or did you? Haven't you and your sister left?"
"We haven't," Nick said. "The trailer people took her away at night, and I followed. They almost killed us in some freaky sacrifice… Long story. Troy saved us. If not for him, we'd both be dead. He learned from Katie. She was at our cabin the whole time, he went alone. She was safe there. I'll bring the horse tomorrow, if you don't mind. I'm sorry we couldn't return her sooner."
George and Matt gaped at Nick for a bit, then George cleared his throat. Katie still shook against him.
"I… I dunno what to tell you," he confessed, pulling off his hat to wipe his brow and exchange glances with Matt. "You okay yourself? You're hurt?"
"I'm gonna be fine, thanks. If we could talk tomorrow…"
"Sure, I guess we could if she's okay…" He coughed again, his horse scoffed into his shoulder nudging it. "Come inside, we'll patch you up."
"No, really, I need to go back to my sister. Thank you, sir."
"What's with the trailer people?" he asked.
"I think most of them are dead," Nick ventured. He hoped they were.
George frowned. "Damn… You sure? I think I'm missing a lot of shit 'ere – pardon my French," he added to the girl. "What kind of sacrifice we talkin' about 'ere?"
"Let me take Katie in," Matt said. She eagerly detached from George, wiping at her cheeks. When they started away, George's eyes bore into Nick again. Even his horse looked expectant.
"They were some kind of pagans, the bloody kind," Nick explained. "Spirits, sacred hunt… they got into some of your kids' minds. Mystery always gets the bored youth. Katie brought us pie and mulled wine to the guesthouse. Troy and Alicia ate and drank, I didn't. There was some sleeping pill in the wine. She told me later it was her mom's. When the trailer people came, Troy and Lisha were both out cold. I was behind the house on nature's call. I followed them, got tied up, too. It would've ended ugly if not for Troy. He got it from Katie, and he had to threaten Timmy to make her talk. He was scared for us. He behaves like an ass when he's scared. I'm sorry it happened like that. I'm sorry you have to find out like that, but better now than later – there could be no later."
"Damn…" he muttered again, shocked and dismayed. He shook his head, speechless for another moment. "I dunno what to say. It's nasty. It's bad, man. They seemed like nice people when they rolled in. We had a few meetings, some of them had dinner with us, we gave them food. And then, after a while, they tried to steal from us. We stopped being hospitable after that, and they got bitter. And things just went worse. I couldn't think, though… the kids… man. Bad." He shook his head again. "I'm not a hateful person. Hell, I try my best to not be. For kids and all. But this makes me…" He exhaled, his hand finding the gun's butt in the holster.
Nick got the point. He nodded. "I'll return the horse tomorrow," he reminded.
"Sure, sure," George said, regarding him. "You sure you won't go in and let us see if you're okay?"
"No, thanks, I'm really fine. Just tired. Thanks, though."
"Take care, son," he put the hat on, nodded. "I'll double the guard for the night. Hope y'all safe there, too."
"It's a good idea."
Alicia watched the taillights of the jeep become smaller and smaller the further Nick drove, and before long they'd vanished entirely. Two angry red eyes in the darkness.
She turned and finally climbed the stairs to the porch, slowly making her way into the cabin. It was dark, of course, and eerie. But she moved past the doorway and inside, unaware she was leaving bloodied footprints in her wake.
When they had come here before, the cabin had not reminded her of Jake in the least. But now, she could see him all around. Literally. Wherever she looked, there he was, lurking in the dark, watching her.
"Are you angry with me?" she asked. "Are you angry I came here without you?"
He didn't answer and she couldn't see his face clearly. If only she could find some light.
She moved towards the kitchen, feeling her way with her hands, bumping into a chair and then a table. Hadn't Henry used a wood burning stove? There had to be matches somewhere.
Troy closed the door on the horse a final time, leaning against it to catch his breath and watch as the taillights disappeared. He still didn't agree with Nick's decision to take her back. They didn't know who else was involved. People were fantastic actors in this new world.
They had to be. Everybody had to be. There was no thing as genuine goodness, anymore.
Katie certainly wasn't, and Troy didn't buy into that impressionable teenager bullshit.
It was one thing practicing the black arts and pretending you were summoning some devil to take over as a means of security and control, but to sacrifice people and to claim that you had no understanding of it? Nick. Alicia. That was a punishable felony that should have been paid for with death or the loss of a limb.
At least when Troy was doing it, he didn't pretend that it was for anything but his own curiosity. He didn't hide behind some cloven hoofed freak's skirts.
He pushed away from the garage, making a mental note to return with some water before he turned in for the night – If he did. There would be no sleep until Nick returned.
Troy entered the cabin and found Alicia talking to herself, moving about the interior like a blind alley cat.
Her words were curious and Troy wondered who was haunting her.
After a couple seconds of silent observation, he bent to retrieve the lamp from on top of the weapons bag. He turned it on, grabbed the bag and stepped inside, raising the lamp so that the light could spread.
Even if it had been exactly what Alicia'd been searching for, the sudden appearance of light startled her. She whirled around to face it and found Troy carrying some sort of lantern, like some fairytale guardian ushering dead souls into the next life.
"You okay, twinkle toes? Maybe you should have some water. Are you hungry?"
Alicia threw a quick glance to where she had seen Jake last, but he wasn't there anymore. He'd moved. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck.
She swallowed and inched forward, trying to put distance between herself and the angry Otto, to approach the one who currently seemed to offer more safety.
"Not hungry. Feel sick," she said, trying to meet Troy's gaze, but her eyes refused to settle. They roamed his body instead. He was covered in blood, and it was hard to say how much of it was his, except for that dark patch at his side that seemed to still be wet.
"If you're not going to eat, you should definitely drink something. It'll help flush whatever's in your system." Troy couldn't figure out what they'd given her. Not that the details mattered. She didn't appear as if she was going to be keel over anytime soon or swallow her tongue and that would have been the only concern. All he had to do was make sure she didn't trip over her feet and break her neck.
She reached for his shirt and lifted the hem to have a peek, eyeing the wound there with a grim fascination.
"Does it hurt?"
She had the sudden urge to poke it, but decided against it, letting his shirt fall back down as she grabbed her itchy finger with her other hand to contain it.
Troy shook his head a no. It did hurt but the discomfort was manageable. It always was. It had to be.
"What about you?" he asked, kicking the door closed, pushing the nearby couch behind it to lock it, and moved to retrieve the water bottle from the weapons bag. Alicia was covered in blood, too, but he couldn't tell if any of it belonged to her. Once he uncovered it beneath the weapons, he extended it toward her. "They cut you?"
Alicia took the bottle he offered, gently turning it in her hand. The water made pretty colors. In fact, she was pretty sure there was a rainbow snake swimming in it. She decided to wait with the drinking until the snake could finish.
Troy's question forced her to examine herself. There was a lot of blood down the front of her dress, standing out because of the white fabric. But she didn't think anyone had cut her. She remembered clearly that the wound on her other hand had been foolishly self-inflicted. It hadn't hurt then, but now that she thought about it, it stung a little. Throbbed. As if she had grown another tiny heart in her palm.
She shook her head. "I cut them," she said. "They gave me a lot of baths." Her eyes briefly glazed over in distaste at the memory. "They were very thorough. I didn't like it."
How methodical were they, Troy wondered. How clean did you have to be to be sacrificed to Satan or whatever macabre deity they'd chosen to worship?
Instead of asking, Troy let his imagination run wild. It wasn't important anyway. She couldn't suffer bleeding out or internal bleeding from a good scrubbing.
"Were you bit? Shot? They do anything that might cause for medical attention? Aside from the hand."
That he'd take care of soon enough. Troy crouched beside the bag again, removing the extra bandages he'd found, some disinfectant ointment, plasters and some needle and thread. Not the medical kind.
"I don't think so," she murmured, turning to watch him rummage through his bag, frowning slightly. "I don't know. I can't feel anything."
Not much pain, anyway. She was cold, though. Really cold. And she wasn't sure if that was because of the temperature in the room or because Jake kept breathing ghostly air down her neck.
"Drink your water, Alicia."
She looked down at the bottle again, contemplated indulging his request for a moment, then decided against it. She was already feeling nauseous. A snake in her belly wouldn't help.
She cautiously reached out and placed the bottle on the nearest table, then stepped back again as if it was a grenade that could randomly explode. "You first."
If he swallowed the snake, then she could drink.
Her suspension of the water didn't go unnoticed. Did she think he'd drugged it? All things considered, he didn't blame her for being cautious.
"Who was that girl?" she asked suddenly as the thought struck. "Is she your girlfriend?"
Or… had she been Jake's? Was that why he had wanted to come here? Because he had a girl stowed away in the garage? That son of a bitch!
She turned to glare at Jake over her shoulder. Jake didn't seem to care. That hurt.
Her follow up questions were peculiar and as if she'd missed the entire sequence of Troy's argument with Nick.
Troy reached for the bottle and unscrewed the cap, making a show of bringing it to his lips for a long drink. He stopped as he hit the halfway mark, but her interest hooked on something behind her in the shadier dark.
Was that some haunting figure she'd been talking to?
"She was an inconsequential moron. Nothing more." He gave the remaining water a shake, letting it noisily slosh around as he held it out to her.
Troy drank the snake. Alicia's eyes widened, her lips pursed. She decided not to say anything. He might get angry.
She took the bottle and, after a quick inspection, allowed herself a small sip, waiting a moment to test if it would stay down before she took another.
"Grab the light. Let's go upstairs. We'll get you cleaned up and stitched up."
Troy kicked the weapons bag beneath the couch, claimed their medical supplies, a random woman's shirt and a pair of shorts for Alicia, and headed for the stairs. He was in the middle of going up when he stopped and braced himself against the railing.
"Think you can make it?" He hadn't been paying much attention before while they were outside but he had noticed that she was struggling with even the smallest of activity and that her mind was all over the place. "If not, just wait."
She slowly traipsed behind him towards the stairs. It was weird. She normally felt so wary of Troy, suspicious of his every action, but now… it was as though all such fears had shed off her shoulders. It was nice in a way. Relaxing.
And if he's secretly plotting to kill me, that's okay, too. She knew something was terribly wrong with her head. She just couldn't figure out exactly what had caused it. But crazy people were a liability. So maybe it would be for the best?
He continued up the last few stairs, feeling his way along the hallway and into what he temporarily viewed as his room, dumping the stuff where he assumed the mattress was before heading back to see how far she'd gotten.
She lost the sight of him and made to follow, climbing the stairs one at a time, tucking the water bottle beneath her arm to free up a hand so she could hold onto the railing. The first few went okay, but the last half of the steps turned out to be increasingly complicated. They were moving as though they were an escalator but she never came closer to the upstairs landing. At least not until it dawned on her she had stopped moving altogether.
One glance behind her and seeing Jake approach set her legs in motion again, however, and by the time Troy returned she had made it. She pushed the lantern into his hands, her own trembling too much to be of any use, and she allowed him to lead her where they needed to go.
He took a hold of the lantern, aware of her shaking. He'd noticed the same reflection of terror in Katie all day. Whereas he'd fed on it, used that dread as a method to keep her in control, it didn't look half as entertaining on Alicia.
"Whatever it is that's haunting you, Alicia, they can't get you. You're fine. It's in your head," he stated, feeling that although it was easy to ignore her reactions and play it out, he also needed to say something this time, provide a notion of relief like Nick might have, had he not chosen to play babysitter to the whiner. "If it wasn't I'd have driven a knife through its skull by now."
With that said, he led her down the tiny hallway and into the bathroom, setting the lantern down on the counter to run some water into the bath.
"No, you wouldn't," she countered as they entered the bathroom. "You love him."
He'd said as much himself at one point, and she'd believed him.
At the mention of love, it wasn't hard to figure out who she was referring to. Jake. Troy envied her, in part. She could see him, and although she was scared of him, at least she could remember what he looked like. Ever since Troy had driven that knife into his skull to silence the disease that had taken over him because of his actions, it was as if he'd warped in Troy's mind completely. Troy could barely even remember his voice, as if the moment Troy pulled that trigger, that part of his life that had been with him for twenty-something years faded away into nothing and settled like dust.
Just like the ranch.
It was as if neither those things existed to Troy.
Jeremiah, however, was a wholly different pestilence. He'd ensured Troy would never forget him.
The bathroom mirror offered a temporary distraction from her thoughts of Jake. Alicia watched her reflection in the poor lighting and leaned in a little, both fascinated and horrified by what she saw. Her eyes were almost completely black, pupils dilated so much it looked like she had shark-eyes. Alicia blinked a few times, trying to clear them, but it did nothing.
She vaguely registered Troy occupying himself with the bathtub behind her, but her focus remained on her reflection. There were tiny flowers in her hair. She remembered now that someone had braided them in. Maybe it had been pretty at some point, but now with all the blood she thought it made her look like some murderous fairy.
She picked at the flowers, tugging them from her hair with rising disgust, suddenly hating the very sight of herself because it brought back the knowledge of what those people had intended to do to her. How close they had come to breaking her in a way she'd never truly had to fear before.
"People suck," she muttered. "I hope they die choking on their own blood."
Troy turned off the water once the tub had filled up a quarter of the way and cast a glance in Alicia's direction as she spoke, a lazy smile twisting onto his features at her vengeful commentary. He'd never known her to be vindictive. Not the way she so frequently liked to judge him in the past.
"They probably did. And more."
He collected the solitary towel they had used a day ago, shook it clean, and set it down close to the bath.
"You want to rinse off?"
Alicia turned to regard the tub, considering his offer as she lowered herself to sit on its edge, reaching in to feel the water with her fingers. It was cold. Of course, it was cold.
She wanted to get rid of the blood on her skin, to get out of the horrendous dress that made her feel as though her breasts were in constant danger of spilling out. But it seemed like so much work. The thought of lowering herself into the freezing water was enough to make her shiver right then and there. And like some strange contrast, she could feel her forehead become damp from sweat. Did she have a fever? Maybe the cold water wasn't too bad of an idea, after all?
She held onto the edge of the tub with both hands and swung her bare feet in, forcing herself to place them fully into the water, and watched as it turned a faint red. The soles of her feet stung. Maybe she had stepped on something sharp when they were wandering in the forest?
Once she inched her way toward the bath, Troy took a step back to give her a measure of privacy. He didn't want to see her off and have her go crazy if she had PTSD flashbacks. You never knew with these situations how people would respond to triggers.
If this even was one.
She didn't freak out, though, she didn't rage, and from what he could make out about her reaction, her hesitation solely stemmed on the fact that the water was icy cold.
She was stronger than he gave her credit for.
She allowed herself another moment to brace herself before she stood, turning her back to Troy and trying to sweep her hair over her shoulder. "Is there a zipper?"
It felt like it, and she doubted her own capability to undo it while literally standing on slippery ground.
"Hm?" he asked, confused until he saw her sweeping her hair off her shoulder. The gesture in itself wasn't meant to be seductive, logic and past experience told him as much, and he could practically hear her sober judgement, but his crotch took on an appreciation of its own.
A complicated cheat sheet.
Troy shook off the senseless hormonal stirring and quickly undid the zipper, refusing to linger longer than was necessary and have her cry rape in the morning when she remembered something in shallow recollections.
He'd been there.
"I'll be right back. I'm taking the light," he announced, assuming that she'd be okay to sit on the rim, and quickly stepped out to get the medical stuff and the extra clothes he'd grabbed for her.
Once Troy had left the bathroom, Alicia felt brave enough to make a new attempt at conquering the cold. She pulled the dress off over her head and threw it to the floor, slowly lowering herself into the bath and immediately regretting it.
Holy shit, it was cold!
She sat, bringing her knees to her chest and hurriedly splashed herself with water to rinse off, unwilling to remain any longer than what was necessary.
By the time Troy returned, she was shivering violently, but felt she had done a decent job at cleaning the blood off her chest, face, and arms. She'd managed to locate the towel on the edge of the tub and wrapped it around herself, but had yet to exit the tub itself. In the back of her mind it seemed an impossible task to step out. Especially since she couldn't seem to actually locate the floor by sight alone.
Troy set the lantern down on the counter again, along with the medial supplies and turned to her as she stood in the middle of the bath. She looked at war with herself.
He approached her and extended a hand or arm, letting her decide what she needed to get out. "All good?"
Alicia reached for him without hesitation, taking hold of his outstretched arm to steady herself as she finally climbed out, teeth chattering beyond her control.
"I'm… losing my… mind," she managed to utter, feeling a small sense of relief that the light had returned. "I think… I'm broken."
Troy could relate to that in every sense of the statement. He'd felt that for years before the apocalypse. The drugs definitely didn't make that better.
"You're just high. Once this part wears off you'll be back to your infuriatingly sane self. You never got into drugs like Nick, huh?"
Was it that? She was high? That explained a lot. For a moment she even felt so relieved she smiled.
"No. When you see the person… you love most in the world… become reduced to a shell of what he used to be because of drugs… you don't really feel tempted to follow."
He shook off her hand once she was steady on her feet and retrieved the clothing, and turned his back on her to give her privacy again. "Any mentionables that need fixing?"
She made an attempt to pull on the shorts Troy had brought for her. She succeeded on the third try and didn't fall over. That was a win. The oversized shirt quickly followed, but she gave up on the buttons after a few, suddenly distracted by Troy's next question.
"I don't know. Maybe my hand? It doesn't hurt but…" She brought her palm close to her face, trying to inspect it before holding it up for him to see. She didn't trust her own senses anymore. "It looks deep. I could be imagining it."
Despite the show of privacy, the mirror had provided Troy with a full view of everything, and oddly enough, he didn't feel as bad for it as he should have. Why should I? It wasn't illegal to look and it wasn't as if he were planning to go beyond that moral border.
When he saw her arm go up in the mirror, he turned around, aware that in her right frame of mind she might have questioned the instinct.
"It's deep. You were holding the blade when you went to town on the bitch. That does a bit of damage." He took the hand and examined it closely, pushing the flesh together to see how he'd work it. "You ever had stitches?" He let her go and took a step toward the counter, patting at it lightly: "Hop up."
Turning her back to the counter in question, she braced both hands on it as if having already forgotten about the injury and carefully lifted herself up to sit, legs dangling.
"Once. When I was seven," she said, making another attempt at the buttons on her shirt. The shivering had lessened slightly and that made things easier. On a more sour note, the nausea had returned. "One of the other kids pushed me off the slide. I hit my head."
She was clearly losing the battle against her shirt buttons, and after a second's amusement trying to watch her do them up with a shaky grip, Troy swiped her hand away and took pity on her.
He didn't do them all. Just two. Enough to keep her modesty in check.
Alicia lifted her good hand to the left side of her forehead, in the general vicinity of where a tiny scar could still be seen if one knew what one was looking for. Now it was covered by bruises and the healing cut from her tumble in the river.
"I used to fall down a lot," she added without much thought. "Nick would give me shit for it. Cause I couldn't keep up with him. He liked to jump off things."
"He still does," Troy added, remembering how they'd scaled that fence a couple of nights ago and how Nick'd jumped to freedom, and following her probing finger with his eyes to what Troy assumed was a hidden scar. "You don't seem as clumsy anymore, though. I guess you grew out of that."
Alicia didn't know about that. She still felt clumsy most of the time, but perhaps that was just part of some lingering self-doubt.
He took her injured hand, turned it palm up and with his free hand drew the lantern closer to her side. "Unlike when you were seven, I don't have anesthesia and this is going to hurt. A lot."
He unrolled the bandages next to her and quickly thread the needle.
"I'll try to be quick. You, uh… you want to bite down on something other than my neck?"
She eyed his process with the needle and thread, marveling at how he managed to set it up so easily, and looked back up at him when he next spoke. An amused smile claimed her lips, and she reached out to touch his face, just beneath his eye where her mother had shoved the spoon, tracing the faded bruises there. "You're pretty."
"Is this a relationship or an alliance?" Jake said from the dark corner near the door. Her attention snapped to him and she frowned, feeling an odd sense of Déjà vu and guilt for some reason. She stared him down for a long moment and he met her gaze head on. He was different, though. So different from when they'd been together. So cold.
She swallowed and forced her attention back on Troy, trying to calm her sudden erratic breathing and racing heart.
"Just do it."
Her gentle touch was unexpected but not at all unpleasant. The compliment took Troy for a loop, though. Who knew the youngest Clark could look at him with anything other than disdain?
He didn't reply as her attention wavered to somewhere over his shoulder, sucking the humor out of the scene like a vacuum. She was trembling again.
He wondered what she imagined Jake had said to her.
Troy tightened her grip on her hand, refraining from looking at her face as he used the hem of her shirt to dab it dry, knowing that once he started all that would be there would be pain of some kind.
Whereas she had barely felt pain when the injury occurred, Alicia did feel it now. Troy's warning had been genuine.
She sucked in a sharp breath of air as the needle pierced her skin and clamped her teeth together, unable to withhold a few groans as he continued. She fought to keep her hand still even if every instinct she possessed screamed at her to pull it back and hide it from Troy and his vicious needle. She managed for the most part, with only a few brief breaks needed where he had to tug her arm back into his grasp.
As uncomfortable as this whole process was, the pain seemed to temporarily clear her head somewhat. Jake disappeared and for that she was not sorry.
Troy didn't draw it out and didn't torture her with the anticipation of when it was coming. He just did it, pressing the skin together, forcing the thin steel through the soft tissue on the breaks edge until it started bleeding again and that involuntary tremble seemed to dive off into an actual quake. It wasn't the best sewing job but it was over relatively quickly.
He used his teeth to bite off the last bit of cotton and the needle, setting both aside, picking up the already laid bandage to wrap it around her palm and to tie it off on the back of her hand.
"Don't wet it, don't dirty it and try not to use that hand to much for the next couple of days. You might pull the stitches free and I'm pretty sure you wouldn't want a repeat session without whatever you're on."
He stepped aside in indication that he was done and she was free, and slowly stepped toward the light to check himself out in the mirror. He'd stopped bleeding, thank God, but it was still oozing.
Alicia slipped off the counter when Troy gave her the go-ahead, and absentmindedly examined her new bandages on her way out of the room, pausing in the doorway to watch him perform an inspection of his own injuries.
She was going to ask him if he would be able to stitch himself up when the sound of an approaching car caught her attention. It died down too quickly for her to be sure she had actually heard it, though, and once more she sought confirmation from Troy.
"Is that a car? Is it Nick?"
Troy released the hem of his shirt and immediately killed the light on the battery-powered lantern, moving toward the bathroom window to peer out into the dark.
There were, in fact, lights out there, headlights, but as hopeful as he was, he couldn't be sure it was Nick.
Troy stole across the bathroom and met Alicia in the doorway, squeezing past her to sweep ahead. "I'll check it out."
He didn't wait to see if she understood the instruction and slowly made his way downstairs, being careful, listening for any foreign talking outside as he made his way for the couch. He crouched, felt around beneath it for the bag, removed the knife he'd stolen from the kid and shifted the piece of furniture only so-so.
He still didn't hear anything.
He gripped the knife, opened the door, and slowly started out.
There hadn't been movement where he saw the car park, and by the time he stepped off the porch, he recognized it as the one Nick had left in.
He was back.
Troy hurried toward it, half-expecting to see someone else in the front seat as a told-you-so; only it was Nick and Troy was grateful to be proved wrong. Nick was out cold, by the looks of it, and for a second Troy questioned if they'd shot him.
He lowered the knife, gripped the driver's door and yanked it open. "Dude? Nick? You okay, man?"
