RIVER FLOWS NORTH — PART 4
Alicia didn't object to the destination her brother had in mind, and neither did Troy. Their location wouldn't matter much, anyway. The whole world was the same now in all its cruel and brutal glory.
She could already tell she wouldn't be able to handle the new knife as effortlessly as she had her last, but she would make do. And she would learn. She'd always been a quick study. Alicia kept her gaze on the weapon as she practiced, glad to have an excuse not to meet Troy's eyes in the rearview mirror.
"We're going to have to stop for fuel," Troy said. "We should definitely stop for more water and food. Do any of you know how to hunt? Deer, cougar. I know Nick tried to give it a whack once but he didn't get very far. How about you, Alicia?"
"Not really," she admitted, not overly excited at the prospect of facing a cougar. "I can fish with a rod," she continued after a while. "In theory, anyway."
"Fishing in theory can't be as productive as the actual fishing," Nick said lazily, letting his eyes close as he leaned back in the seat. "Given the drought down here, we might not have a chance to check and compare our theories. I'm sure deer and cougars try to stick close to water, too. Snakes, however, can be anywhere. I'd rather search the stores and houses, though, and leave all that excitement of tracking snakes and cougars to you."
"We're not driving back through town or any town for that matter – if we can help it," Troy stated, making sure they were clear he didn't want to risk running into the proctors. "These men, these people, they'll make a point of being everywhere. Especially if they're planning to expand their trade. They actually need trading goods for that."
Not that they didn't know that already and had probably figured as much.
"We need containers for water and fuel. We also need medicine. How much is left after last night?"
Alicia reached for the bag beside her and opened it, pulling the blanket and jacket out to do inventory.
"Two full bottles of water, in addition to the ones Nick and I started last night. One protein bar, some beef-jerky." She fished out the medical kit to have a glance inside. "There's still some gauze left, a few band-aids, some unidentified pills."
They were in a clear baggie. She assumed they were painkillers, but couldn't be sure. Nick would probably be able to identify them, though.
"And," she lifted the glass bottle they had purchased with Troy's gun earlier, "half a bottle of delightful moonshine."
"The bar's yours," Nick commented and pointed blindly toward the dashboard. "Mine's there and Troy's done and dusted. You can keep the moonshine, too. I'm not in the mood for a hangover tomorrow. I've met my limit of shitty for a week in advance."
Troy glanced at Nick shiftily as he offloaded the last of their food onto his sister without any consideration or hesitation to the fact that it could be split three ways. Was that the way it would be now? Alicia would be given the last handouts on principle? In Troy's world, you were forced to earn your place, to earn what you got and came into the party as an equal share. You had to in order to survive.
It wasn't a scenario appreciated or even got by many but Troy'd found those following him to be stronger for it – he was, wasn't he? He'd always believed that to be a big reason the ranch flourished for so long when the world had crumbled around it and become a mere ghost shell.
Nick reached under the seat, reclining it a tad, then struck a more comfortable pose, restraining his winces. It still hurt in a nasty way, like he had a cracked rib or maybe more of such. Not the best scenario, but he should be counting his blessings as it was.
After a bit, he dozed off.
They drove for some time on a dirt road flanked by nothing but sand, turning onto another less than twenty minutes later that ran alongside the outside of the city and along the beach.
Unlike most teens in the past who'd reveled in going to Mexico during summer, that wasn't a particular activity Troy indulged in, let alone experienced in the past despite Jake's very many trips since he turned sixteen. Troy'd just had no such interest—content with the farm, his own space, and his own people—and hadn't realized until this moment how compact the city was. How many homes, how many stores, and how many people needed to be taken care of.
As he viewed it now, it didn't surprise him that its population leaked into the states. It seemed inevitable, like rats who migrated at the first signs of trouble.
Troy was lost in his thinking, eyes glued to the roads and signs, wasted on every corner and peppering the streets like drunk tourists with nowhere to go.
He drove awhile longer and then slowed to a crawl as a grocery store came to view, a medium-sized building no bigger than a seven-eleven tucked between two abandoned restaurants.
He deviated off the road and drove in behind one of the bistros, cutting the engine as he pulled in tight behind it, getting out to take care of the dead alerted by their presence.
And why not?
They were on the run, sure, but they didn't have a time limit on when and where, and it seemed ill-conceived to bypass sources that could very well provide them with what they needed to keep them going for a couple days at a time – or even just a few more hours.
Alicia's appetite hadn't exactly returned since their whole ordeal at the dam, but she could tell her body was suffering from lack of nourishment. She grabbed the protein bar, tore at the wrapper and took a bite. It seemed to grow in her mouth the longer she chewed, but she managed to swallow it with some effort after a little while. She forced herself to take another bite, just to have something in her stomach and packed the rest away for later.
She was glad her brother was able to get some rest. He sure looked like he could use it.
She watched as Troy headed out to dispose of the walking dead. It seemed to be like a routine to him now.
She didn't want to wake Nick but was reluctant to leave him sleeping in the car in case trouble arose. She briefly contemplated her options, then got out, knife in hand, took care of a straggler that had deviated from Troy's group, and wiped the gore from her blade on the corpse's shirt.
"Jake's cabin," she said once Troy had finished. "Up in San Bernadino National Forest." He might have already been aware of it. She didn't know. But the way Jake had talked about the place, it seemed to have almost been a secret. "I was going to go there. Jake said there would be some supplies, grounds for hunting. Out of the way of the Proctors."
Alicia eyed Troy, slipping the knife into her back pocket for easy access.
"What do you think?"
Troy flicked the blood off his knife, reviewing the dead beneath his feet, feeling an innate urge to cut the wasted like a turkey at the mention of Jake's cabin.
He'd gone there for years with his friends during his college days. Place owned by their father and later bought over by Jake when he'd netted enough being a lawyer. A reward and one of the few things he'd done for himself. Troy'd never gone there himself – not since he was a kid – and he guessed in part Jake'd always preferred it that way.
Not that he ever said that aloud, but he didn't have to. Troy knew.
Jake dealt with all he could where Troy was concerned when it came to the ranch, stepping in between Jeremiah and his youngest as much as he could, letting Mike pick up the slack as they grew older.
"I think it's a good idea. From what I can remember there was a lot of hunting, a lot of water, cabins, a secure space—it would be the last place they'd look for us. Would Nick go for it? Or are you planning to make your own way there eventually?"
"I don't see why he wouldn't," Alicia replied, pleased that her idea wasn't immediately shut down and was taken into actual consideration. The thought of going to a place Jake considered a sanctuary wasn't exactly a temptation, especially if Troy was to join – his mere presence was a constant reminder of that awful day. But necessity trumped desire. It was the way it had to be now.
Troy stepped over the dead and took a slow walk in the direction of the grocery store, casting a passing look at the jeep where Nick appeared to be sleeping. "Are you going to stay with him?"
Alicia looked back over her shoulder at a still sleeping Nick. From what she saw it didn't seem likely he would wake on his own for a while yet. There was no more danger in sight, and it seemed unlikely anything could take them by surprise here. And yet… That's usually when shit hit the fan.
"Yeah, I'll stay," she said, leaning back against the car. "You can manage? Shout if you need backup?"
"I'll be fine," Troy supplied, grateful that she'd decided to stay and keep an eye on Nick while he slept. If she didn't, Troy would have. There was safety in numbers. "Is there anything you need specifically?" he asked, a polite means of waving a white flag and letting her know that even if she was pissed, they were all still in this together. "Girl things."
He'd done those runs many times over the last year and been requested more than one thing that might have made men tremble in their idealistic years. Hell, it was all just nature and necessity to him now. Like condoms and birth control, and like food it was the one thing you never overlooked.
His offer surprised Alicia. There was something highly comical about a military man being sent on a mission to procure feminine products. Didn't mean she didn't appreciate it.
"I wouldn't say no to a box of tampons if you come across one." She eyed the two dark restaurants on either side of the convenience store. Their restrooms would usually house dispensers for tampons, condoms, and one-use toothbrushes. If someone hadn't gotten to them yet, they might get lucky. "I'll do a sweep of the restaurants when you get back. Need to stretch my legs anyway."
"Sure thing," he said, giving a nod, strolling the rest of the way toward the grocery store. He flipped the knife in his hand and used the handle to knock on the back door, playing upon the surface like a drum until a series of distinctive groans rose from inside.
One of the dead mimicked the action from the other side, clumsy in its chorus and frantic.
He waited a beat and then tried the door, grateful to find that it opened with no hassle. Perhaps because someone had been there before or because the owners had fled in a hurry.
He used it as a shield and observed as six tumbled outside, squeezing past each other, clumsily shuffling to freedom and in search of Troy. When he was sure no others were set to join, he pushed the door closed with a bang and made work of disposing of them one by one as they returned to him.
Unlike most who were eager to wait this plague out and welcome the world back as it was before, he wasn't all that keen to swallow their former beliefs and moralities. Happy, content even, for this to go on and on until he ultimately joined his brother in the dirt. Not that he had any plans for that to be soon, but who knew what tomorrow would hold.
Troy approached the door again, opening it without hesitation this time, and quickly headed inside.
The wait outside was pleasantly uneventful, but of course, that gave Alicia's mind the time it needed to work up an alarming amount of concerns and guilty feelings. She looked back over her shoulder at a sleeping Nick, wondering how he was really faring after the whole Celia confession, and if it was something he'd ever get over. She worried he may try and take some of the blame onto himself, that his friendship with her was what had gotten her killed. It was wrong, but one always had such thoughts after someone died.
Troy returned thirty minutes later, carrying a cooler he'd stuffed with bottled water, an assortment of canned food, a couple packets of cheap Mexican cigarettes, a can opener and a small pot. Just enough to get them across the border.
"I didn't find any tampons," he remarked as he drew near, setting the cooler down, producing the pink box he had found of panty liners, offering them to her for inspection before loading it all into the back of the jeep.
It looked like a lot, a treasure to most, but in essence, it would only get them through two or three days.
Alicia threw her bottle back in the car and closed the door behind her. Her lips quirked ever so slightly at the box of panty liners he carried, but she didn't comment on why these would not do the same trick as tampons.
"Thanks." She handed them back his way so he could load his treasures into the car. "I'll take a look in there," she said, gesturing to the restaurant to the left and pushing away from the car. She didn't trust Troy, but it didn't feel likely he would try to hurt Nick in her absence. And she trusted Nick to turn him around should Troy decide to leave her behind here on one of his whims.
Alicia pulled her knife out as she walked, getting a good grip on it in case she'd need to use it.
The front doors had already been shattered, so there was no problem getting inside. This, of course, meant it was likely others had been here before them to clean the place out. Still, might as well check seeing as they were already here.
Dead leaves and sand littered the floor. It crunched under her boots as she walked, maneuvering through some overturned tables and chairs to get to the kitchen. She doubted she'd find something as wonderful as a bucketful of potato powder like last time.
She was right in her assumption. The kitchen storage had already been emptied of anything that could be considered edible. She did, however, find a few unopened packs of plastic cutlery under one of the rollaway counters, which she gathered and put in one of the large, empty food containers that had probably held fresh vegetables pre-apocalypse.
The container clanged loudly, hitting the floor once she opened the walk-in freezer to find one of the previous chefs. He was dead, but not as dead as she'd like him to be. He came at her, and she braced herself, driving her knife through his chin and up into his head. He stilled immediately.
She struggled slightly to free the blade from his skull, but managed eventually, wiping it clean on his white-ish uniform before she explored the freezer. It didn't hold much, but Alicia did find a packet of sausages and some sliced ham. Which was a rare treat these days unless you still had livestock.
She picked up the fallen container and put her frozen treats inside, carrying it on her hip like a makeshift basket as she made her way to the restrooms.
In the end, she came away with one and a half toilet rolls, five tampons, a nearly full bag of hand soap she ripped from the dispenser over the sink, and two pieces of gum meant to freshen one's breath.
Nick was still sleeping as Troy loaded the goodies into the backseat and slipped the liners into the cooler. There was no logical point in keeping their stuff scattered around because if push came to shove and they were forced to abandon ship, there was no way they were going to be able to grab everything, and at least this way they only had one focus.
He wanted to do the same with their ammo and weapons but he hadn't found a container to store them in, and with Alicia in the back, there wasn't exactly space. Overloading themselves would also bring more pain and interest. Attention that wasn't necessarily a good thing.
He closed the back door quietly and cast a look at his friend, turning to prop himself against the side of the jeep, patiently waiting on Alicia's return and ready to run in and help if need be.
Any reason to fight.
Unfortunately, she returned safely sometime later without a need for his assistance.
Alicia handed the frozen food items over to Troy so he could place them in his cooler with the rest of his haul. "We'll have to eat them before they spoil."
"Nice. Guess we know what we're having for lunch," he amended, opening the back door again, flipping up the cooler lid, and quickly transferring her goods to his.
When they were done, he gestured for the container she'd carried her stuff in and wiggled it through the door and onto the cooler, noting that, despite some of his reservations of having too much, it felt good being able to stock up and worry less about what they'd be eating for the next few days.
"If it gets too tin can in there for you we'll figure something else out and rearrange things," he said, snapping the lock on the door to prevent anything from falling out and closed the door.
She waved a hand as if to say "I'm fine" in response to his query about space, slipped her knife back into its sheath and found her seat.
He headed to climb in at the driver's door again. "Now we need fuel and jerry cans if we can find them in this sand pit."
His talk of jerry cans made Alicia remember a paper she had written on the subject of how jerry cans had helped the Allies win World War II. For a moment, nostalgia washed over her as the memory of sitting in her room at night, writing and researching with a hot mug of tea in hand, surfaced. Sentimental. And then, pissed off. How many useless things the school system had insisted they learn. She pushed the thought away as Troy got back in the car and pulled out onto the road. One glance at Nick indicated he was still asleep.
"Why didn't Mom and I end up in the cellar with the others?" she asked abruptly. "Back at the border. Why were we separated from the rest?"
A question she had pondered every now and then since it happened. At first, she had assumed they'd only put men down there. That for some reason, women received a gentler treatment. But upon learning about Luciana, that possibility went out the window.
So was it a race thing? Or had Troy's obsession with Madison started from the first moment he caught sight of her?
Troy hadn't expected that question, and he was pretty sure she wouldn't appreciate the answer but he'd decided to give it to her, anyway.
Why the hell not? He wasn't ashamed of what he did. He still wasn't. He'd learned a lot, and a lot of it had helped him understand not only what had happened but also more about himself.
Even if they viewed it as barbaric.
Besides, they weren't in a government-run area like Washington, but he was sure they were doing all kinds of testing, not only on the dead, but on the living, as well.
"You were white American. Female. Pretty. That isn't a collective we'd come across very often at the border. I told you that during your processing. Besides you weren't injured."
His answer, though not surprising, brought a sour taste to her mouth. It wasn't as if racism was something that had sprung up post-apocalypse, but she'd never seen it up close and ugly like this for herself.
Guess that's what was called white privilege.
"And if one of your men got injured? You'd send them down there to suffer the same fate?"
Her follow up question was ridiculous. She had to know that. They weren't living in a rainbow nation where everyone sang joy to the world. White did not always get on with black or brown, or even white, and visa versa.
It was a dog eat dog world and Troy gorged. Anyone in his position would have. Madison did – that much was clear now – and in this, they were a lot alike.
"If it wasn't a fatal injury and I knew they'd survive, then no. We had medical for that. A staff. But resources were limited and you couldn't just go about handing it out to every unfortunate soul who stumbled in with a bullet or bite. If we did, we'd have had nothing left to ourselves or our people."
He glanced back at her momentarily as he drove. "If you had limited resources and had to choose between your family and a stranger, you'd have done it?"
Alicia met his gaze, hard and cold, before she gestured in Nick's direction. "I'd choose him over anyone," she admitted, lifting her shoulders in a shrug. "Guess I was just wondering how important your people were to you. If you stopped caring for them the moment they no longer benefited your existence."
The look she was giving him now was one he'd never even seen her mother wear. She was livid, and he supposed if there was an opportunity, she'd have hit him.
He could see now why she and Jake had gravitated toward one another.
He gave a short sarcastic laugh. "Why would I? When things got tough and my father died and I no longer benefited them, they banished me. They abandoned me. Did I deserve it? Maybe. But I kept the ranch and the surrounding area clear of the dead, I enforced the rules – and if it wasn't for me – the place and our food stocks would have crumbled ages ago. My mistake was your mother. I should have killed her after she spooned my eye."
And he would have, too, had Jake not held him back.
Something must be broken in him, Alicia thought. Some wires in his head that got crossed or disconnected. Because he didn't seem to understand what had happened. Or he didn't want to.
His banishment had nothing to do with his usefulness, and everything to do with the fact he had tried to shoot Walker and his people once their two 'tribes' had merged. She wondered if he even comprehended why that was wrong. Probably not. And that said a lot about the man they were dealing with. It told Alicia that his personal need for vengeance meant more than the safety of those around him.
Though she realized Mom was not without her fault in this whole scenario. She had manipulated the Ottos from the start, and though Alicia dreaded Troy's last statement, she couldn't help but wonder how things would have turned out for all of them had she and her family never come to the ranch.
"Shoulda, woulda, coulda," she replied calmly, leaning back in her seat.
Her observation was not what he expected in regards to his view on what he should have done to her mother. He'd expected more disgust, hatred and possible swearing.
"Definitely should have," he retorted in agreement, eyes briefly dipping to Nick who still appeared to be out of it and unaware of their conversation before settling on the road again. "Do you miss Jake? Did you love him?"
A flush of heat crept up the back of her neck, the kind that earlier had Alicia reaching for the scissors with the intention of burying them in Troy's chest. Her jaw clenched, and she had to force herself to take a breath to stay calm. Nick was right. She didn't want to be the kind of person who hurt others if it could be helped. Even Troy Otto. Still, it suddenly became increasingly more difficult to cling to that thought.
She couldn't tell whether Troy's question was genuine, or just an attempt to get a rise out of her. Alicia sought his gaze in the rearview mirror. "You really wanna go there?"
With a quick glance in the rear-view mirror, he could see that now he'd hit a nerve – a real nerve – one that even the mention of murdering her mother hadn't set off.
Was she that mad? He knew they no longer wanted to be with Madison and that Nick felt smothered by her — he'd confessed as much during their high excursion — but what was Alicia's issue with her? Why did she want to pull away from her in a world where not seeing each other for years, months or ever were a sure-fire possibility? What had she done to her?
They'd seemed close.
"Is there a reason the question is hard to answer?"
Alicia swallowed, averting her gaze, because looking at him seemed to only make the anger inside her grow. If it had been Nick asking her these questions, she would have answered without much difficulty. Because she knew with absolute certainty, he'd never use it against her. He'd never use Jake's death as a means to hurt her.
But Troy – the indirect cause of Jake dying in the first place, he'd use it to his advantage if he could. Hell, to him her emotions might even serve as some creepy experiment of the human mind. She didn't want to make herself more vulnerable to attacks from him than she already was.
So she made herself cold, with the same ease she had towards Mom and Nick and Travis when life's chaos was raging around them and they were all too preoccupied to see her. She cleared her face of the blazing anger and the sorrow she had yet to truly begin to experience. "I miss him. I didn't love him."
Troy observed the way she averted her gaze like someone lying to avoid admitting the truth. They'd only known each other a few months, so it was possible, love was fickle, and in times when things fell apart, it was easily adopted to stave off loneliness.
Even he'd been guilty of it in respects to sex.
"Did you tell him that?"
It was strange to think Troy and Jake were brothers. They were so different, not just in morals but how they perceived themselves. But every now and then, Alicia saw a glimpse of similarity. It was the eyes mostly. And the smile.
And, perhaps, that was another reason Troy could now so easily get under her skin – because he was a walking, talking reminder that the wrong brother had died.
"He suspected," she admitted in a low murmur. "When I wouldn't leave the ranch with him, he thought I had seduced him for Mom's sake. Manipulated him. That Nick had manipulated you for the same reason."
Troy nodded, half expecting she might have said otherwise or attempted to keep up a front to prevent an altercation, and found himself impressed. "Did you manipulate him?"
He didn't have to know about Nick, and nor did Troy even think there was truth to that. After everything, what could Troy have given him? He had nothing, and yet Nick continued to stick around and travel with him.
Alicia kept her gaze at the window, shook her head. "I don't play games like that. I wasn't in love with him, doesn't mean I didn't care."
And she had cared. Truly. Jake Otto had been a good man. One of the few she had encountered in this new world. And he'd deserved a better fate than what he got.
She now wondered: if it wasn't for her, whether he'd have gone to the cabin by himself. He could have been saved. Now that was a crushing thought. "Did you love him?"
That was a relief. Troy was used to the easygoing atmosphere that Nick offered him, and the fact that Nick was so honest about everything. Troy'd have loathed to look on every interaction like something he had to monitor again in order to put on a certain mask.
"I did," he responded after a brief dissection of his own beliefs, feeling something he thought was comparable to guilt. It didn't last, and he'd barely registered it before it was gone.
Before going to negotiate with Walker a second time, Jake had insinuated that Troy hadn't wanted him to return, that maybe the youngest Otto wanted his brother dead and no longer desired him in his life, and at times—especially when they disagreed on views — it felt like Troy wanted nothing more. But now that Jake was gone and Troy knew he'd never hear his judgement again, he felt unknowingly different, and as if he would welcome all that bullshit with open arms.
At least Troy might have. He liked to think that he would.
It's what Alicia had expected him to say, and yet she wasn't sure if she believed him. That was unfair of her, she knew it. She just didn't understand how you could love someone and still want to hurt them, and she was sure Troy had wanted to on several occasions. Like a child playing too rough with a pet, and not comprehending why they suddenly stopped moving and breathing. Something almost beyond his control.
"Why didn't you stay with your mother?"
She heaved a sigh, his question feeling too enormous to truly address all at once.
"Several reasons. Main one being we're too different. We have the same goal, but we choose different paths. Hers is not for me. I don't want it." She paused a moment, eyeing Nick again. "Do you care about Nick?"
"Yeah. Of course. We're friends," he replied, darting a look at Nick to see if he'd woken up during their talk or if he was still out.
Was that even possible that he hadn't, or had Nick just not slept well the night before? What if it was worse, and the internal bleeding had caught up to him and they hadn't noticed?
Troy reached over, index finger impulsively extended beneath Nick's nose to wait for the telltale sign of his breathing. When it came, hot and steady, he removed the hand and relaxed, internally kicking himself for being so stupid. "Do you think I care about Nick?"
"Don't know yet," she answered honestly, shrugging out of her denim jacket. Ever since yesterday, it smelled of dirty river water, and the scent was starting to make her feel unwell. If Troy was feeling charitable enough he might allow her to make use of one of the jackets she found last night.
"I think you like him." She reached for the bag they'd been carrying, rummaging around inside until she found the blanket, and folded it neatly. "Don't know you well enough to know if you care."
Though she was certain whatever Troy felt in regards to Nick was the only reason he had pulled her back from the brink of death. So, there had to be something there.
Alicia pushed the blanket to the window so she could rest her head against it, the side that wasn't injured, and she shifted a little in her seat to get comfortable. "Don't hurt him. I'll blow your brains out."
Troy appreciated her honesty and laughed. It wasn't that he didn't think she couldn't do it, it was that he knew she could follow through with the threat and would. There was a harmony in that awareness, a fact that made him think that, in time, they, too, could be friends, and that maybe her thinking wasn't too far off from what Nick and Troy shared.
Assuming their conversation had ended on that note, Troy set the volume on the radio to low and turned it on, scowling as a slur of Mexican peeled from the speakers.
He inhaled and forced himself to keep it on, to drown out the silence and bide a bit of time on a trip that was going to take some time.
Determined that on their next stop he'd make a point of finding new music.
Alicia thought she dozed off for a few, but woke again once Troy pulled over at a gas station. They managed to scavenge some fuel from the pumps, as well as the few abandoned vehicles in the parking lot. But the shop itself was completely barren. No more food or drinks to be found.
She got behind the wheel this time, taking her turn to drive so Troy could get some rest. In theory, anyway. She had a sense he didn't feel completely confident in her ability to take them where they needed to go.
The burning estate transfixes Nick. He stands there forever, unable to move, to run there and see if everyone's gotten out safe. He just stands and watches, feeling terror at the sight fill his chest with heavy lead.
His mother's voice is calling him, imploring to get in the car with her and flee to the next place that would be in ruins within days or weeks or months after they'd get in.
He can't. All he can do is watch it burn, feel it burn deep inside him while he witnesses it, and the flames are reflecting in his eyes as though the very one burning inside of him. He hears the dead walk around him, making sounds as though they regret seeing such devastation. Some of their own were there, inside. Trapped.
Like Celia.
The thought is a flash of lightning in his head. It frees him, and Nick finally can run there. No people seem to be left around, and the flames are too bright and hot in most rooms. The smoke is choking him, making his chest bust with hurt, but he doesn't care. Coughing makes him feel like he could spit a lung out. He forces himself to continue, scared to call her name. Some weird feeling deep down shuts his mouth. Some bad feeling that he would hate to find what he's seeking.
The house where they keep the dead is still locked – at least, it seems that way. There is no one behind the black bars, but the orange haze from the fire downstairs in the cellar. Nick leans into the grid to hear if anyone's calling for help down there, and it slides open. There has been no lock.
He hesitates, then hurries inside and down the stairs. The cellar is like scorching hell. It's all fire, smoke and walking figures engulfed in flames. They stroll around aimlessly, but don't seem to notice him. As if his disguise is still working.
He doesn't care about that much. Futilely pressing the hem of his dirty shirt to his nose and mouth, he cautiously picks his way along the burning walkers, coughing as he goes.
He sees her. She stands with her back to him, not even trying to get away. The fire's raging around her, but she seems untouched by it.
"Celia," he tries to call, but his throat's too constricted to make a sound. He reaches out a hand, approaching her, but she turns before he can touch her.
Her eyes have lost their color, they stare through him now, but he knows she sees him. She smiles; it's a sad smile, a smile of pity. Her mouth is moving, and at first, he thinks it's like with other dead – the biting snaps. But then, it seems like a pattern, like she actually is trying to tell him something he would understand.
It pains him to see her like that, and he knows it's a suicide, but he feels he owes it to her to try. And he comes closer to hear what she says. It's so damn quiet, and the fire is crackling so loudly.
Her mouth is almost touching his ear, her cold fingers squeeze on his shoulders as she draws him closer to pass her last message. Her hair is tickling his face.
"Ella te maldijo," she hisses. Her teeth sink into his neck.
Nick woke in a jerk, gasping and immediately wincing as it filled his chest with pain. It was the car, and, surprisingly, Alicia behind the wheel.
They had crossed the border into the States and were driving up Interstate 8, close to switching to one of the smaller back-roads by the time Nick gasped awake. His sudden reaction took her by surprise, and she stared at him for several seconds before forcing her gaze back to the road. He looked scared as hell.
"You okay?"
Awareness slipped back in, replacing the dream with reality. He brushed a hand over his neck, still feeling her teeth on him. It was already twilight outside. And his body ached all over after having to stay in one pose for hours. Wincing, he worked the kinks out of his neck, touching his fingers to that spot again unwittingly.
He rubbed his eyes as if it was going to make the vision abandon his memory. It didn't. He took a cautious half-breath, refraining from wincing, and glanced at her. "Yeah, I'm… just a bad dream."
He made himself smile and cast a gander at the backseat, making sure she didn't ditch Troy somewhere like he was sure she was tempted to do multiple times.
"I shouldn't have slept," he said, trying to make himself comfortable in the damn seat and finding there was barely a way, anymore. "My head's heavy. It's weird I didn't wake earlier. I'm a very sound sleeper." He gave her an assessing look. "Are you feeling okay? We can stop for the night somewhere already, 'cause everybody here but me needs their sleep, too."
"Soon," she said. "I wanna get us off the interstate, into the more forested areas. We'll need to make a fire."
Glancing between him and the road, she shot him a small smile.
"Sausages for dinner."
He gave another placating smile at the notion of dinner, but in truth, he didn't feel like eating anything. Which couldn't be good, but there it was.
Alicia considered him. He looked disorientated, and though he was putting on a brave face, she could tell something was weighing heavily on his mind.
"Nightmare, huh? What was it about?"
Her question made him frown. He didn't want to revise it. "I don't know, it was a mix of things," he lied, eyeing the prairie and the mountains framing the road. "One of those weird ones you forget when you wake."
Alicia had a pretty good idea of what was on his mind. But she couldn't force him to talk about it. Could she?
"It wasn't your fault," she said, glancing at him again. "What Mom did… it wasn't your fault. You know that, right?"
Nick almost laughed. Laughter would have been a painful work, and not even just physically. He rather felt like crying, but there were no tears. Like they were stuck inside, swelling and aching there like a giant lump blocking his airways and making his breathing hurt.
"You heard what she said, Alicia," he reasoned tiredly, watching the terrain. "She did it to protect me from a woman that had been nothing but kind to me all along. She talked to me, she listened to me, she let us all stay, and my mother decided I needed to be protected from her. It's fucking clear as day. And it's done. It's a fact."
"Celia died because Mom made the decision to kill her. Mom." Alicia took one hand off the steering wheel and reached for his. "Not because you did something wrong, but because Mom felt threatened. Because she couldn't control the situation. And that is not on you, Nick. It's just not."
"It's not about who made that choice, it's about why."
He still refused to look at her even when her hand grasped for his. It was touching him deeply that she tried to do her best to lift it off him, but at the same time, it was pissing him off that she was willing to bend the truth to make him feel better. It was somewhere along the line what Madison would try to do at times. And it wasn't fair to either of them, because the truth was the truth.
"She probably thought that my listening and trying to understand meant I was taking up some new fucked up religion or something. Like… trying a yet new kind of drug. Again. So yeah, it's me. It's on me and always will be. I had to make her understand what I was doing, but I didn't feel I needed to. I was just trying to make sense of things and see if I could find a common ground with Celia. I just let her believe what she believed, I let her have it, and her son who she needed to have back. But all my good intentions fucked up the whole thing. People died. And Celia died. Because she was viewed as that new drug brand that was so bad for my hazy fucking brain."
Silence ensued on her part while he was talking, getting things off his chest, and it lasted a good while after he stopped. She didn't know how to convince him he was not at fault. Same as how she had not known how to impart on him he was free of guilt when she, Travis and Mom were captured and detained by Troy and his men because they were looking for him. Her brother had a tendency of clinging to his guilt, of harboring a sense of self-loathing even if he did an admirable job of pretending otherwise. She could relate on occasion, but it still killed her he was trying to carry all that darkness by himself.
"Are you grieving?" she asked cautiously. "Or are you too angry for that?"
Nick thought about it. He probably was grieving, all right. But he wasn't sure if he was angry, anymore. He felt too worn out for anything like that. He was just scared that it was finally too much. Scared that he had to live with it, and it felt so heavy that it made him want to die.
But what he told his sister was: "I'll be fine. I just need some time to bury it among the things I'll never be able to fix, and I'll be as good as new. It's a habit I've been abusing for so many years, after all. Don't worry about me."
Alicia gave a slight smile. "I'll stop worrying about you when you stop worrying about me."
Which they both knew would never happen. It wasn't just the way they'd been raised to care about each other; it was instinct. As deep and primal as anything else true and genuine she had ever felt. You always worried about the ones you loved.
"I'm trying to make you feel better because I love you," she confessed, withdrawing her hand so she could successfully pull onto a road marked '79'. "Because it hurts me to know you are suffering. And so, in that way I am selfish. And I'm sorry about that. You feel what you need to feel to get through this. But I can't stop worrying, Nick. It's impossible."
"I know," he confirmed. "And if it'll make you feel any better, it'd all be a thousand times worse without you. But at the same time, having you with me scares the shit outta me because all I ever did to you was utter shit. You brought me comfort, and I failed you, left you, lied to you, disappointed you, then left again. I'm scared as hell I will make you regret your choice, because it has always gotten down to it. And it wasn't because I didn't love you, but because I didn't know what to do with all of it. What to do with myself. I'm not fully sure I know it now."
Alicia didn't think she'd ever be able to fully let go of the past, of all the trials and tribulations their family had been through. But it no longer seemed to matter as much as it used to.
She appreciated Nick's ability to self-reflect. There was a time when he was too heavily into the drugs that he didn't quite manage that. At least not in front of her on those few occasions they saw one another. But he was different now.
Troy didn't manage to fall asleep once they'd changed positions. He couldn't; he was hyped, and the day overall was an exciting one — what with their return to the states.
He didn't have a home, anymore, and nothing he could label and go back to, but he didn't mind all that much.
Not anymore. There was nothing to do about it.
Although, if he wanted, he could return to the ranch, clear away the horde and start from the bottom. He suspected one other person in the party wouldn't be inclined to that concept and that it would crop up ugliness.
Maybe, if and when things fell flat and the Clarks — now that they were a team again — decided three was a crowd and they no longer needed him, Troy could revisit that concept. It was a possibility if he were to understand their conversation correctly.
He wasn't a model citizen, and these two were carrying around enough guilt to choke a horse.
Like Jake.
It would only be a matter of time before Troy's personality reared and viewpoints started conflicting. It always did. When he and Alicia had spoken earlier and she'd made the comment about Jake's belief, about his feeling and questioning if she'd manipulated him, Troy had automatically defended the notion in regards to Nick. Yet, maybe, he'd been naïve and optimistic.
As he'd eavesdropped to her trying to make Nick feel better — and his rejection — Troy wondered if that was how Nick felt about Jeremiah and if that was why he continued to stick with Troy.
She tried to appease his mind and make him feel better—like Troy did a while ago, forgiving him for Jeremiah's murder, not because it was right but because it was done and there was very little to do in the way of changing it —but had Nick accepted it? And was that a part of the reason he'd stuck with Troy?
Did it matter?
The more Troy listened, the more he came to the conclusion that it did. Nick's guilt controlled him, dumped him in situations with his mother he clearly didn't want to be in and suffocated him.
As much as Troy valued their friendship, he wasn't all that fond of the idea of their relationship heading that way and feeling like he had to monitor his personality or do things differently so he wouldn't add to that internal conflict.
Troy kept his eyes closed, forcing himself to stay relaxed, and continued to eavesdrop on their conversation, learning more about the two than he assumed he would ever be privy to while awake.
"You need to stop thinking I'm perfect, Nick. I never have been. We're both going to make mistakes going forward. It can't be avoided. What matters is that we stick together, that we're honest about who we are and who we want to be. We'll figure it out."
He chuckled and turned to give her an incredulous look. "You're saying all that and you still want me to believe you're not perfect? Do you hear yourself?"
"I'm not." And it kind of scared Alicia that he thought she was. It meant his disappointment would be that much greater once he figured it out. Another heavy blow to shake his world.
They were getting closer to the forest and mountains now, trees popping up every now and then, their population seemingly increasing the further they drove, slowly replacing that of the desert wasteland.
"I've been thinking," she said after a while, hands tightening a little on the steering wheel. "About Su-Su. Mrs. Tran."
She had been their next-door neighbor in Los Angeles, and had taken care of Nick and Alicia when they were little while Mom and Dad were at work.
"She had this jewelry box up in her bedroom that I loved exploring because all her trinkets were so exciting and unlike anything I had ever seen before. Most of them from China, I think. Anyway, there was one day I was upset, crying, I can't remember why."
It had been the year Nick went off to kindergarten, and for the first week, Alicia had cried and cried, missing her big brother during the day and not quite comprehending why she couldn't come with him to that magical place they would pick him up from every afternoon.
"To comfort me, Su-Su gave me one of her pins to borrow, and she told me stories of her home country, which to me at the time sounded like crazy fairy tales. But I loved it. And I loved her for taking care of me. And I remember a while later when Mom came home from work and it was time for me to go home as well, that I didn't want to. I wanted to stay with Su-Su because we were having so much fun and I loved her. I told Mom that."
She frowned, almost squinting as if that would make the memory clearer.
"And it seemed to make her mad, in that cold angry way she can get. A few days later, she got me set up in daycare. Said Mrs. Tran was getting too old, didn't have enough energy anymore to look after kids. I was sad but didn't question it."
Not until now.
"I just wonder if… Mom has been pushing people away from us for a very long time."
It got clear rather soon where she was going with her aunt Susu. Nick felt another pang of guilt for steering her thoughts that way. Neither needed to discover even more to that topic and make a list of crimes. It was their mother, and even though she had some selfish urges that turned grim-reaper bad after the apocalypse, she still loved them in her own twisted way. Nick didn't want to cause Alicia's resentment by wallowing in his Celia problem.
And then, just as she thought of Susu, he thought about Dad. About every time he noticed the same look mom had been using for Nick executed on Dad. It probably cut the same kind of deep. So deep Dad couldn't take it, anymore.
"It's a dangerous road, Lisha," he said, turning to look at her with a hint of a sad smile. "Once you start on it, you can't stop, and the slope's getting worse until you tumble down and can't get up. Don't do it to yourself."
"It is a dangerous road," she agreed. "And it may all be circumstantial. But some of it might be true."
That was one of the horrors of growing up – realizing your parents had flaws, coming to understand why they'd acted like they always had. It was an awakening, but not always a welcome one.
"I always hoped you and I would get to vacation together," she said after another bout of silence, a small mischievous smile playing on her lips. "I was thinking after college, and Europe, but…'The Middle of Nowhere, America' works too. I'll take it."
"An eternal vacation works great until you're fed up with too much of me," he said, chuckling, and reached for the water bottle.
"Are you planning on being annoying?" Alicia grinned, pulling over onto a dirt road that would hopefully lead to a place they could park and camp for the night. At least it would be hard to spot them from the main road, leaving them safe from the proctors and other potential crews of opportunists.
The dead? Well, that was harder to prepare for.
"I don't plan these things, it happens naturally," he played back.
She came to a halt at the end of the road where a small makeshift parking lot seemed to have been constructed pre-apocalypse. Probably to accommodate hikers and the like. She didn't turn off the ignition, leaving the headlights on a beat longer so their view was clear.
"What do you think? Good enough for one night?"
He looked around through the windows. "We'll need one on the watch at all times if we sleep outside. And then it might be fine."
"That would be the best option in most locations," she countered, remembering how, when she was on her own, she hadn't felt safe to sleep much even in what would be considered relatively safe shelters. She turned the car off and handed the keys to Nick before jumping out, moving to the back of the jeep to claim one of the military jackets for herself, and a functioning flashlight.
Nick stepped out of the car, closing the door as quietly as he could, and went to open the trunk. He found his handgun, considered it, and left it in. Too much noise wasn't good.
"I'll take a quick look around," she said, indicating the edges of the lot where she would still be in their view, but would also gain a better sense of where they were and how to best utilize this space for the night. "Maybe wake sleeping beauty?"
She considered helping herself to one of Troy's guns for added safety. That would surely have woken him right up.
"Wake up, Troy, we stopped for the night," Nick called and closed the trunk, strolling after Alicia and searching the terrain for any staggering silhouettes.
Troy waited a minute and then sat up, sliding out of the back.
The area wasn't bad in choice but it was exposed, which meant there would be little to protect them against any of the dead. He wasn't fond of that picture but it wasn't good driving around at night, either.
While the Clarks went off in different directions to make sure they were safe, Troy got back in, unlocked the door next to the coolers so that they could easily remove them when ready, and went to demarcate a spot in the dirt for a fire.
Alicia moved cautiously and as silently as possible, shining the flashlight at the trees up ahead to get a look at her surroundings. It wasn't much more than she expected. Just forest. And the sound of their car didn't seem to have attracted any of the dead either. For now, at least.
Ten minutes later, she headed back to the car, carrying some branches that could be used for firewood and spears to cook their food on. She dropped them in a heap on the dirt floor behind the Jeep, perching on the edge of the open flatbed, and reached for the moonshine to rinse her knife.
Keeping Alicia in his field of view, Nick checked the area to the side of her route, and found nothing alarming. He didn't doubt that some dead - one or two or a few - would eventually make their way here from any direction, but now wasn't the time.
Troy had made his way around his share of the ground and was busy with a bonfire.
Nick slid his knife in the sheath on his hip and took a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from the glove compartment. He had a few lighters stashed, and for good reason: he had lost his last one in the flooding dam.
Breathing still hurt, but he intended to try. Anything to not be tempted to take a pill or two.
He lit a cigarette, took a shallow drag, wincing subtly as he let the smoke out, surveying the terrain around. It was better lit now that the half-moon was out of clouds.
Troy used both hands to dig a small hole in the ground, made a wide enough circle, and then rose up, scanning the dark and what loomed in the light to be able to find something to bridge it. There was nothing, nothing consistent.
He dug the hole a little deeper, pushing the sand aside, and then went to claim the sticks he'd seen Alicia appear with, assuming she'd got them to help start things.
He settled them in the middle of the hole, stacking them in fours and up, shifting away just long enough to retrieve some dry leaves that he'd stuffed into the middle.
He stood again and walked over to Nick who was smoking. "Mind if I borrow that?" He gestured to Nick's hand in the dark, in search of the lighter to give things a bit of a kick.
Alicia cleansed her knife with the alcohol, hoping it would kill most of the bacteria lingering on the blade from various stabbings, and got to sharpening the sticks. She supposed the fire would take care of whatever nastiness the moonshine had failed to.
Nick's brow was pinched slightly and she couldn't tell whether it was from discomfort or another bout of heavy thoughts. She didn't feel like asking him about it again, not in front of Troy while he was awake.
"We've decided to go to Jake's cabin," she told her brother since he had not actually been conscious when the idea came up. "If we leave in the early morning we might make it there around noon."
Nick handed Troy the lighter and turned to Alicia. "He had a cabin," he said, not exactly questioning, but rather tasting the idea as he smoked, leaned against the side of the car. He looked at Alicia knowingly. "He offered you to get away with him from all that nasty feud, didn't he?"
Troy took the lighter and moved back to his small pit, rearranging the sticks and leaves one last time, and then lit them. They went up immediately, latching onto the surrounding twigs.
It wasn't going to be something that lasted all night but it would get the job done cooking the meat Alicia had found. He returned to the car, lightly nudging her aside while she and her brother spoke, removing first the empty container on top before reaching in to open the second.
He removed the meat inside and sniffed at the packaging now that it had been out in the open for a few hours and without anything to chill it. Blood could do weird shit, and they'd all get sick very quickly.
Deciding that it was okay, Troy grabbed it and the empty container and headed back to the fire.
"Yep," she said, feeling oddly vulnerable again with the topic revisited in Troy's presence. She leaned away to allow the latter to reach around her, practically holding her breath and her knife stilling until he was out of her space again. "Supposed to be some supplies up there. And might not be a bad idea to lay low for a bit. Until the proctors lose our scent."
In the weak, flickering light of the bonfire, Nick could see her face, and he read it there in the way she pinched her lips, in how her brow furrowed briefly like a resonator of bad thoughts. Guilty thoughts.
He shifted closer to her, leaning back as he watched the fire.
"It's always tempting to go into all the what-ifs," he said wistfully. "And I did, many times. What if I went with Luci when she asked me to… Whether any of it would have turned out differently… For me – surely. But it wasn't just me. I didn't wanna stay. But I couldn't leave, either. I wasn't ready to walk away after you all almost died trying to get me out of that pit, and Travis actually did die. And then, I'd walk away from you, again. I wanted to cave to her, but I wasn't ready. When she left, it cut me, deep, but at the same time, there was some weird, morbid kind of relief. That I didn't have to dance around the topic anymore, pretending to still be pondering."
He took a drag and shrugged.
"It's different for you. But the core of the problem is the same: you weren't ready. Period. It's not a fault, and even if it woulda kept him alive, you'd have another reason to regret it." He turned to look at her. "It still hurts. But it's one of those things where the what-if you haven't picked wouldn't have made it better for you. Probably not. You'll let it go, after a while."
He kissed her temple and strolled toward the fire.
Troy flipped the container next to the fire and sat down on top of it, the meat in his lap while he waited for the flames to grow hotter.
With the silence and little to no sound around them, it wasn't hard to make out their conversation, assuming this was something at least one of them was willing to share with him out in the open.
He'd always wondered about Luciana and how Nick felt about her leaving once the dust had settled, never daring to bring it up, since last time he'd confronted Clark with his curiosity in the pantry Nick had been hostile.
Troy guessed he himself had been part of the reason, or at least Otto's people and their values.
He offered the lighter back to Nick once he approached the fire, making a mental note to get another spare in case they were to lose that one, and perhaps a whole stack of them.
Fuel was one thing, finding lighter fuel was another beast entirely.
"So, we're decided then. We're going to the cabin?"
Even if Jake had been Troy's brother, speaking about him in Troy's presence made Alicia feel almost dirty. And so she chose not to partake this time, simply listening as her own brother spoke, explaining his own thoughts about Luciana leaving and how he'd handled it, as well as how she'd handled Jake's desire to go.
And, of course, she'd had those thoughts: the what-ifs. She always did when someone died. What if she had gotten Jake away from the ranch? What if she had chosen to take Travis's seat on the helicopter? What if she had just tried to talk to Andrés one last time instead of reaching for her knife?
But she also knew those thoughts were futile, and rarely brought any good with them.
She leaned into the kiss Nick planted on the side of her head, eyeing him a few seconds after he left her side, and continued to sharpen the sticks which she ultimately handed Troy's way.
"Yeah. We're going."
Nick lit another cigarette once he settled on the ground, keeping any winces off his face.
"You sure you know where it is?" he asked, glancing between them. He didn't assume Troy wasn't aware of that cabin before Alicia brought it up.
"I know where it is. It's a popular lodging area," Troy stated, clutching the meat to his chest, moving to take the sticks from Alicia.
He sat back down, undid the plastic cover and skewered the sausage, wrapping them around in parts, using his free hand to feel for the heat on the flames.
"And I memorized the way there on the map after Jake first showed me."
Just in case he chose to go without her. She didn't know if she would have chased him down. Probably not, if going to the cabin was what he really wanted, and it seemed to have been. She wasn't so sure it was because the ranch had changed so much, or because he felt he was failing everyone under his leadership.
Alicia sheathed her knife and brought her leg up on the car with her, leaning back against its interior.
"Let's hope no one got to the place before us."
"If it's a worthy place, there might be surprises," Nick commented. "I just hope neither of you's gonna go Alamo on them invaders. Good or perfect, it's not worth dying for."
Alicia arched an eyebrow, wondering when her brother had ever seen her "go Alamo" on anything. It wasn't as if her attempted and desired stabbing of Troy the day before was a common occurrence. "Depends on what we find, I guess."
"What is worth dying for?" Troy asked. "You don't think we should take what's ours? What was Jake's?" He removed his hand from the heat, replacing it with a stick of meat he held in place.
"Look around, Troy, you think there's any ownership left in this world? The only thing you own is your body, and the rest is up for the taking by those who come, see and snatch first." Nick took a drag, looking at him. "Dying's easy. At all times. Any reasons. Or none at all. Living's the real challenge. So no, a piece of old world's property's not worth dying for in my book. Is it in yours?"
Stupid question as Troy'd been willing to die for the ranch and its inhabitants only a couple of weeks ago – if that was his purpose. "Yeah. To withstand what's to come you have to be better than the next guy, more ruthless and willing to do and take to survive. You give up what's yours and you're admitting defeat. You have to craft a life for yourself or you have nothing."
Alicia looked between the two of them in the semi-darkness, reaching behind her for her water bottle to allow herself a sip. She thought she knew where she stood on this issue, or had done in the past at the very least. But she also knew her time alone, even if it was hardly any time at all, had changed her perspectives a little. After all, hadn't she chased down the woman who had snatched her food out from under her? Threatened to put a bullet in her head in order to keep it? Would she have, though, if they hadn't come to a peaceful agreement? Alicia didn't think so. She hoped not. But a part of her wasn't sure.
What she knew for certain was that she had become bolder. Stronger. She would hide if it was necessary, but wouldn't automatically back down from a fight.
"Have to be able to live with yourself, though," she commented, taking another sip of water.
Nick looked at each of them in turn, contemplating it, then flicked the cigarette butt into the fire. A small amused smile touched his mouth as he glanced at Troy.
"I don't suppose you gonna wave an ownership paper in front of their noses. Therefore, all the ownership bullshit is just a claim with no proof. It's all about who can kill for it, win it and hold it. I'm not up for another round of bloody holding on to shit."
He held a hand out for the water bottle when Alicia finished, and took a sip.
"I'm sorry, you guys, but I don't think I'll be willing to bite into someone's throat for a house. I'd rather find another one that's empty. Because it's not worth killing for or living with it afterwards."
Troy had killed a lot of people since this thing started, and he'd slept like a baby. He didn't have to remind either of them of that or the fact that he'd do it again. "If there happens to be an empty house and its safe, sure, if not, we'll fine tune and adjust."
He prodded at the meat to check if it was cooking properly, and then relaxed the arm on his knee, rotating it slowly as if he were cooking a s'more.
When the first was done, he handed it over to whoever wanted it, and started on the second.
Alicia was happy to know that even if Nick and Troy had been spending a lot of time together, her brother hadn't come around to seeing things Troy's way. It was comforting.
She pushed off her seat to catch the stick Troy was handing over, and gave it to Nick. He looked like he could do with a hot meal. She grabbed the third stick and impaled a sausage of her own to warm over the fire, saving Troy the hassle of having to cook for all of three.
"Let's not write Jake's cabin off before we even get there. For all we know it could be fine."
Nick still wasn't sure whether he could keep down a meal – he did too long without it and still felt like shit, in most ways – but he placated his sister by accepting the handmade skewer. The smell wasn't unpleasant, so there was hope.
"I was just saying that I don't want to have to battle over it. Because it's not the last hut in the woods in this world, and there are significantly less people around to claim them. There's always something unoccupied to find. No need to go crazy over taken things."
He took a cautious bite and chewed slowly as though it were a baked snake. It wasn't bad. It might work.
Time slowly ticked by as they ate. They hadn't found more sticks and there wasn't enough to keep it going any longer than an hour. Conversation too ran dry. Troy threw the cling wrap and foam plate onto the last of the coal, aware that the smell was horrendous but tossing it out for nature to take care of when it was already sluggish, wouldn't be right, either.
Not that it should matter. The wasted were already everywhere trashing up the place.
Troy dusted his hands on his pants, picked up the container he'd been seated on, and knocked the dust free of it as he carried it to the car.
He removed the cooler and picked up the cushions he'd loosened on the backseat, freeing up the ammo stuffed beneath them to deposit the few in the container. A handgun, six grenades and three boxes of ammo. One partially full. There hadn't been much else he could steal from the pantry after the rescue mission at the ranch and the rest had been used to barter with.
He pushed the cushion back into place, secured it so that it wouldn't move around, and then returned the cooler to its place, removing a bottle of water for himself before stacking the weapons on top.
The two siblings were talking, and for a while, Troy returned to the fire and joined them, amazed how easily the conversation flowed—when you discussed things as senseless as music — with Alicia there, too.
Considering Alicia hadn't eaten much at all those past few days, it was surprising how quickly her stomach said "enough". She managed to finish her sausage, but left it at that, allowing the boys to have seconds, or to save the rest for breakfast if there were leftovers.
Once her belly was full, sleepiness also set in. They sat in front of the bonfire a while, talking about what people their age should be discussing: music and movies and other lighthearted topics that seemed foreign in this new world, but was a welcome distraction nonetheless.
The ease didn't last, and before long, they drew invisible straws about who would be taking the first second and third watch.
Since Nick had slept for most of the drive, he volunteered to take the first shift of keeping guard while Troy and Alicia slept.
Troy insisted on the first but was given the second. He accepted the position, laid out a space for them in the flatbed where they wouldn't have to be curled up on the ground. It was a fitful sleep at first for Alicia, light and disturbed by the sounds of nature, but she eventually fell into blissful darkness. Troy spent most the time in a state of wakefulness, unable to sleep out in the open as much as he tried. It was too exposed and unlike last night – without borders.
It was an uneventful night for Nick, which was good in this setting. There were no surprises. Just one walker appeared in the middle of his watch, and he took him down quietly. The dead was withered, barely dragging his feet. Nick sat for a long while just staring into the fire and trying not to indulge in heavy thoughts. Fire brought memories he didn't welcome, so he just turned his back to it, enjoying the warmth, and stared into the night until it was time to wake Troy.
Sleep took Nick rather quickly, and it brought no vivid dreams. Nothing solid he could remember, and it was a relief. Alicia's voice roused him. He woke in a start, fearing there was something bad happening, like a horde marching through.
"What?" he blurted, blinking the sleep away.