SLIPPERY SLOPE — PART 9
Alicia's head jerked in the direction of the man, but she didn't move further. Had he been directly in front of her it could have been easy to sneak up on him. But as it was, he was where she couldn't see, both of them concealed by shadows and the dark that continued to blanket the landscape.
"We don't mean any harm!" she called out from her hiding spot, hoping to draw the attention away from Nick.
"Shut up!" the man called, slamming his palm against the closed door where Troy was trapped like a mouse.
Shut up he did. Troy didn't have any choice. He couldn't see what was going on outside and there was also no way to get out. He steeled his nerves, pressing an ear to the door to try and catch parts of the heated conversation.
The man's gun never wavered from Nick; he cocked the hammer slowly and it clicked. Nick didn't see his face in the shadow his baseball cap cast, but felt his stare boring into him like a laser. "Now, where is that Alicia? How many more of you are here?"
"Three, just three," Nick said through gritted teeth. "We didn't come here to rob or kill you. We found the truck on one of the roads a few miles from here. With boxes. You're one of them leaving boxes on the roads, aren't you?"
"Where is it then?"
"Parked there at the entrance," Nick pointed.
The man's hand holding the gun straightened slightly as if to aim better. "Where's the driver?"
"He's dead," Alicia said softly as she stepped out from the shadows. She's sheathed her knife and walked with her hands raised and in clear view.
If the man had as much sense as the three of them – and Alicia thought it highly likely – he would be reluctant to fire that gun of his in proximity to the fuel. She was counting on it.
She moved slowly so to not startle anyone and made towards Nick.
"We found him dead," she reiterated. "Near the truck. Is he one of yours?"
The man's head flinched when he noticed Alicia, but not a muscle more moved. "How do I know you didn't kill him?"
"You don't," Nick said. "Until you think about it. If we wanted to kill you, too, we'd stakeout this place and snipe you down. Instead, we brought the truck and the body. We came to warn you. I know who killed him."
"And who would that be?"
"I don't know her name, but she's a bit out of it, with a fixation on your group. She hates that you help people, she believes you're making people weak. And she wants you all dead."
"You know this, how?"
Nick pulled a side of his shirt up, "Been stabbed by her. She poisoned me with some crap and kept me tied up until I caught my chance to escape."
The man chuckled, but Nick heard no amusement in the dry sound. "So, it's some woman?"
"One strong and cunning woman, and you still didn't know about her." Nick spread his arms shortly. "Means she's good at what she sets her mind to."
"Look, we came here at great personal risk, to warn you and to deliver this man to the people who care about him," Alicia said softly. "We hope someone would do the same for us if the situation was reversed. Please, we mean to harm."
The man took a moment to process, standing silent as a statue, his face a shadow under the baseball cap.
"'Kay, here's what we do," he said eventually, and knocked his free hand's knuckles against the locked truck doors. "This one stays put, and you two – go ahead, keep your hands where I see them or I shoocha. Lead me to 'im."
Nick exchanged a glance with Alicia, and they went ahead, their hands in the air. The man's footsteps crunched behind them. Nick never heard him uncock the hammer. He wondered if the man would risk shooting them, after all.
After the knock to the door, Troy straightened up and tugged at his cooled earlobe, half-expecting the door to be opened. He drew back his foot and kicked the door when it didn't. "Let me the fuck out of here!"
It wasn't hard to hear that Troy definitely didn't want to stay inside the locked truck. Alicia's only comfort was that he was usually savage enough to find a way out – one way or another – should things go south and they'd need him.
Hopefully, that wouldn't happen.
They wandered out of the lot and towards the truck, the Humvee parked a little behind. It didn't take them as long as it had going in, now that they didn't have to sneak.
"He's in the car," Alicia gestured.
The man in the baseball cap slowed his pace to take a good look at the truck, and by the slight canting of his posture, Nick realized he was trying to see the plate number in the thickening darkness. The man cussed under his breath and reached into a back pocket, producing some cylinder. A flashlight.
He approached the Clarks, a few feet short of where they stood at the back of Troy's Humvee, and jerked his gun toward it, still aiming it at them. "Show me."
Nick opened the flatbed, revealing the body, and stepped aside, coaxing Alicia to make space, as well. The man said, "Doncha move," and turned his flashlight to the body, making two steps closer to see. "The hell's on 'is face?" he asked after a few moments.
"She writes things, like you people do with the boxes," Nick said. "We found bodies with words written on their faces before, in Arizona. I saw a walker coming at me on the street, with 'I found God' on his face. While I stared, she got me from behind. I don't know what she wanted with me, maybe just some twisted fun or experiment on how much I can take before she killed me… But she was raving about wanting to make me stronger. I figured she thought the dead were strong and live people were weak. She likes to turn people into walkers and writing messages on them. Is he the first of your group to die?"
The man heaved a sigh and turned his light off, his gun still trained on Nick. "You realize how twisted it all sounds, right?"
Nick considered him. "You don't seem surprised."
The man let out a long exhale, then uncocked the hammer, lowering the gun. "Two of ours turned up dead. Things written on their faces. Tom here," he gestured to the Humvee, "is third. First one that deep into state. Both others were around the New Mexico border. Damn, man… Damn."
"I'm sorry," Nick said.
"Yeah, me too," the man said, holstering his gun. "Like the freakin' dead ain't enough trouble, what the hell is her problem!"
"She's not in her right mind," Nick shrugged.
"Yeah, well, lots of that goin' on around, too." He pulled the cap off, combing his fingers through his short hair (in the poor light Nick thought it was grey), then put it back on. He considered the Clarks. "I guess I owe ya a thanks. We were lookin' for 'im. Now his girl can— argh, who am I kiddin', this ain't any good to tell 'er, but not knowing is worse, I guess."
Alicia had expected a sense of relief when the man lowered his gun, but his words only brought a deepening feeling of guilt.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, echoing Nick's earlier sentiment. "For your loss."
She tried to shrug it off, wrapping her arms around herself now she could lower her arms. "Mind if we go get our friend out of the truck? I worry if he stays much longer he'll either damage your property or himself in trying to get out."
She gestured to Nick's side where his wound was located. "We're a little on edge lately."
"Sure thing, I understand," the man nodded. "Y'all get how safety comes first these days, so I had to lock 'im. I think I'll take a leap of faith here to trust you won' butcher me."
"It's best if one of us lets him out," Nick said. "He's probably pissed, so... Alicia, please, get him out and try to convince him to chill." He winced and leaned against the side of the Humvee, wishing he could slide down to sit on the ground. The painkillers were waning away rapidly, and he felt like shit with the wound pulsating like a rotten tooth.
"Ye okay?" the man asked.
"I will be. Just been a couple of days of that," he gestured to his side. "Gotta take a painkiller."
Easier said than done, Alicia thought as she strode back into the lot, her nerves sufficiently calmed enough that she didn't feel like looking over her shoulder as she moved through the darkness.
"It's me," she called out to Troy when she reached the back of the truck and pulled the handle, hoping a warning would ensure he didn't shoot her in the face when the door opened. "It's okay. We're good."
After they had fallen silent outside the door and his request for release had gone ignored, Troy looked around the inside of the truck—only with his hands—searching his memory and the brief image he'd had of the supplies for anything he thought would help him get out. Thankful for his digital watch – his only source of light. Unfortunately, it was minuscule. Just as his eyes had adjusted, the light had winked out and plunged him back into the same annoying emptiness. This went on and on. Eventually Troy resigned himself, forcing himself to settle on the crate of unopened water bottles, his hand stiffly wrapped around the butt of his gun. He'd never been the type to surrender, he still wasn't, but even Troy knew when he'd been outplayed and needed to bide his time. An image of his family's old basement flashed into his mind and the two days he'd spent locked away as a child. A lot turned over in his head, things that had no place anymore and he'd thought he'd gotten over years ago, making the enclosure feel small and suffocating. He sucked in a sharp breath, closing his eyes despite the pitch black, trying to relax his mind, focusing on the sounds from outside. He had no idea how much time had passed before Alicia announced her return and the door was swung open.
"Where's Nick?" Troy asked, noting at once that he wasn't with her, easily jumping from the back of the truck before they could shut him away again.
"He's with the car. He's fine," Alicia reassured, looking Troy up and down. "Are you okay?" He seemed a little paler than normal.
Troy frowned, confused by her concern and annoyed by the fact that he felt exposed. He'd never liked that feeling. "I was worried about you guys."
He didn't return his pistol to his holster, leaving the truck behind without a backwards glance to go meet up with Nick.
"What'd the dude want? Who is he?"
"He wanted to make sure we weren't here to hurt him." Alicia hurried after him, eyes on his gun. "Put that away. You won't need it. He's already holstered his own. We gave him the body. Apparently it's not the first one of his group to have turned up dead."
Troy glanced at Alicia as they walked – rather quick paced. He didn't immediately put the gun away. He couldn't. He was tense about being locked in the back of the truck and unable to shake the vulnerability that came with the helplessness of the situation. He wasn't used to it – not anymore.
"How many has he lost?" Troy asked, sliding the gun back into position at his hip.
Alicia breathed a little easier.
"Two before this one. Both had writing on their faces. Her work." In a way it felt reassuring to know Nick, Troy, and Alicia weren't the only ones aware of Crazy Lady anymore. If anything were to happen in the future regarding her, they might even be able to gather allies.
"You need that looked at," the man said, propping a hand against the Humvee rear, gesturing with another one at Nick's side.
"We've been managing. Got some pills to get through, it's gonna be fine." He glanced in the direction Alicia had gone, pensive. "You guys have to ride in pairs," he added. "To keep an eye on each other."
"The idea's great, but we ain't got that much people. If we bunch up into groups, we don't get the territory covered. People won't get help when they need it, and the whole affair goes down the drain."
"It will go there anyway if you all get killed one by one. Working solo obviously doesn't work."
"It's hard to find people for the job when they see the danger. Tommy came from Sonora over there," he waved a hand across the facility. "I'll bring his body, and who'll want to step in after it? It may be a mess goin' on 'round here, but people ain't suicidal."
They both turn to look at Troy and Alicia approaching.
"Sorry for that, pal," the man called to Troy. "Gotta be careful."
"I'd have done the same," Troy retorted in as civil a greeting he could muster. Only he'd have done worse – and had. His anger had dissipated upon seeing with his own eyes that both his people were unharmed.
"Is the exchange done?" Troy asked, regarding Nick. He had to assume that'd be able to go now, to move on with their lives.
"About that," the man said before Nick opened his mouth. "There's this settlement up the road in Sonora. If you guys need a place to hole up a couple' days to recover or get some help, I'll vouch for ya. They're good people. A bit on the cautious side, but hell, not enough good people left alive, so no one turns down friendly connections. Whatta ya say?"
"No," Troy interjected. "Not interested."
Alicia smiled tightly. "What he means to say is: Thank you for that incredibly generous offer. But it's not needed as of now."
"Meant no offence," the man said. "Just thought it's tough to drive around with a stab wound, is all."
"Thanks," Nick said, finding it harder to keep up with the conversation when all he needed was to get a pill or two. "It's not that bad."
"Well, won't bother ya if ya say so, but just know it's okay to ask for help when you need it, is all I'm sayin'. I'm Logan, by the way. Nice meetin' ya, even be it a shitty situation like that. I'm grateful for yer efforts. It's rare these days."
"Nice meeting you too, Logan," Alicia said, genuine in her statement considering their meeting had not resulted in any injuries. "And we don't mean to be rude. We've had some bad experiences with people lately. Not eager to put ourselves in that situation again."
"Haven't we all," Logan said. "But that's the point - to stick with the right people. You'd be safe there, I vouch for it. And if it's just a day or two, gettin' some medical aid and movin' on, why not offer? So I do. Think about it while we get the body there. Unless ye want me to take him myself? I bet they'll be grateful you bothered to deliver 'im."
Given what they were dealing with where Nick was concerned, the medical aspect to the invitation was tempting and the only reason Troy regretted his hasty 'no'. He wasn't going to let Nick go alone though, wasn't going to send him off like a bargaining chip to stay with people none of them had encountered. How could they even take this dude at his word? People played at being nice, hiding their true intentions and what they really were about. Troy had. Those cult assholes had.
"Do they have an actual doctor?"
"Just someone who's been managing with some sort of know-hows," Logan said. "They had a pretty good hospital there in its good days, but the doctors were taken by the army when they left. The one they got managed to fly under the radar until they were on their own."
Alicia was still cautious. She looked to her brother. It would be his decision in the end seeing as he was the wounded one. "Nick?"
"Thanks for offering," Nick said. "We'll help with the boxes and the body, but as for staying - we have our reservations. Like you said, can't be too careful."
"Well, damn shame, but yeah, I get it," Logan nodded. "Help is welcome. I'll need those boxes from Tom's truck in mine, if yer friends are up to it. I'll appreciate the body delivery, as well. Too late and dark to refuse that kind a' help."
"Troy and I will go get started on those boxes," Alicia agreed, starting for the truck she and Nick had driven over. The workload was manageable enough. About a dozen boxes in need of being moved.
Alicia opened the back of the truck and climbed inside to get the first two.
"Thanks," Logan said, strolling after Alicia to get his load. "I'll, ah… leave the body in your car for now, if that's okay with ya? Can't fit 'im in my truck, so if you drive him up to their place, it'd be great."
Troy trailed Alicia to the truck they'd been using, chest heavy, and limbs aching a little now that he was able to relax and had so much more to think about. This week had been a long one.
He rolled his head on his shoulders to alleviate the ache, preparing for the weight of the boxes Alicia pushed his way. He carried the first one back over to Nick and Logan.
"I assume you want these in the truck you locked me in?"
"Right ye are," Logan grinned, holding two boxes in his arms. "Follow me, ladies and gentlemen." With that, he started to his truck.
Nick watched them go, then pulled the Humvee driver's door open and slid into the seat, wincing. He reached for the water bottle and popped two pills from the baggie. He drank a few more swigs, then put the bottle back on the dashboard and hid the baggie in the back pocket, grimacing at the pangs in his side. He sat back, closing his eyes for a moment, hoping the pain would ease soon enough.
Alicia trailed the two men, trying to not let the boxes weigh her down. "How long have you guys been doing this?"
"About since it all started," Logan said. "When the world went crashin' down and people found themselves stranded and helpless with no supplies while runnin', then my old friend said we could put our company to good use. To make things a bit better for those who couldn't do it for themselves. So we've done it since. Been ridin' around Texas. Too few of us to branch out but we're tryin' our best under the circumstances. How 'bout you? Been to places? Just three of ya?"
"Not many," Troy lied. He wasn't into sharing all his details with strangers and his past exploits hadn't been shared past the army base. "Our home was overrun by the dead in California."
"Hell, I'm sorry," Logan said. "Y'all related or it was a group?"
"Nick is my brother," Alicia said, depositing her boxes as soon as they reached the open truck, pushing them in to make room for the rest. "Troy is his–… our friend. We met later."
"I see. Well, sorry if no one else made it of your family. Sucks how things get in this new world, doesn't it." Logan deposited his boxes in, then went on for more.
Troy deposited his box with Logan's and then fell into step behind him to retrieve another. "How many people in this community you're sending us to?"
"Hard to tell, I never oversaw their census, nor do they really let us outsiders in much to count heads. I mean, we bring supplies to help them out, and a few of theirs worked with us like Tom. It's about a hundred maybe."
Alicia swallowed, not sure if that was a good thing or not. That many people… The three of them wouldn't stand a chance against them.
Though if a hundred had survived, it meant the group has some kind of order. Not total chaos. Could be like the ranch. "You have your own place? Own people?"
"We got a warehouse, but we do tend to live on the road." Logan pulled two more boxes from the track. Three more were sitting in the dark of it.
A hundred? A hundred people? Physical bodies? That made Troy feel weary more than it did thrilled. He'd only ever dealt with fifty people and they'd broken down in a span of months.
"How far do you guys usually travel? Where do you get the fuel to run the trucks?"
Logan chuckled. "Well, son, I'll have to leave it for those who join us, sorry, man. Here an' there, is best I can do. Supplies need to be scavenged, and it ain't easy."
"No, it's not," Troy agreed. He waited on Alicia to catch up and hand him another box from inside the truck, irrationally afraid they'd try to lock him away again for kicks. "Don't suppose you know if anyone in the community used to be a pilot?"
"Could be. I never asked. But far as I figured, most pilots had to take them planes from here on the army's orders. Whether some were left in town – I dunno. There was a ranch around here, though, they had a plane of their own. Dunno what happened with that. I'm just a trucker. I stick to the wheels."
At the mention of another Ranch, Troy felt his body warm. He missed home. He missed it more than he'd ever be able to express out loud. He'd have to check it, see if the plane was there and if there was anything else they might be able to work with. "We found a plane at the airfield, but it was shot to hell. I guess the army being here explains why."
"That true. There were five planes, means they took four and didn't want anyone else give the one remainin'. So infection didn't spread or somethin'." He set the boxes into the truck, pushing them further in, and stepped aside to let Alicia and Troy put theirs in to lock the doors.
"Yeah, that worked out great," Alicia commented dryly, stepping back once Logan locked the doors.
"You'll lead us to the settlement?" she asked, gesturing back towards the Humvee where Nick was waiting.
"Sure, I'll drive forward, you follow. Ye can jus' leave Tommy's truck here for now. We'll figure it out later, me and my crew. Now we take 'im home." He went for the driver's door and waved a hand in the Humvee direction. "Load in and follow me. It's a short ride."
"Scootch. You should let one of us drive," Troy stated, hoisting himself up beside Nick's window to peek inside. Nick didn't look like he was doing well.
Nick started, and realized he had nodded off, or had been somewhere in-between. He blinked up at Troy's face in the window and pushed the door open, slowly got out. "Don't worry, no one's taking your wheel," he muttered, walking around him to get in the back.
Troy dropped down, did the position exchange getting in behind the wheel, and waited on Alicia to join them before falling into line behind Logan's truck.
Alicia looked back at her brother once they'd started driving. "Got a fever?"
He gave her a tired look, "I don't know anymore. Just need some sleep. It's fine."
She decided not to comment further, leaning back in her seat to survey the road ahead and the lights of the truck leading them. "We're not actually going inside, right?"
"Whenever we get inside places, bad shit happens," Nick mused, his eyes closed. "Besides, we don't want Troy scared, so..."
"I'm not scared, I'm cautious. Big difference." How they couldn't be? Or Nick couldn't be after what they'd experienced last week made Troy wonder how much Nick had bottled up or if he was desensitized to the drama. "It's healthy."
He slowed and sped up as the trucker did, taking note of every turn they took, calculating how far it was from their selected home base. If troy was correct, it was about three miles away. The fences were huge, tall, stretching above them like towers. Troy wondered if there were guard towers on the inside, groups of unseen faces peering down at them with doubt as they drove past, apprehensive and ready to kill on sight.
When the truck stopped, Troy did too, parking a short distance away like he had when they'd searched the warehouse. He wanted to make sure there was room to maneuver the Humvee should another vehicle try to box them in.
"Alicia and I will deliver the body to the gate," he stated, twisting around in his seat, leaving the keys in the ignition should Nick need them. "Five minutes tops. Okay?"
"I'm not a cripple, Troy," Nick said, pushing the door open. He didn't know whether he needed it or not but wanted to see it through.
"You might be soon if you keep overdoing it," Alicia murmured under her breath as she climbed out, eyeing the tall fence up ahead.
They'd been here already. Had even exchanged words with someone on the inside. But they'd approached from a different angle and left as soon as they'd come, considering whoever was on the inside had urged them to do so.
Alicia rounded the back of the car and opened the back door, wishing they had a sheet or something to cover Tom's pale, stiff face. Slowly, she reached for his legs, waiting for Troy to come take his side.
"It's okay, lemme deal with it first," Logan said to Alicia, and went to where it sounded like the metal gate was about to slide open. "Logan here, ye guys," he called and stood listening to the voices behind the fence and working of the metal set bars or locks.
"Yer late, pal," someone called from up the fence, and a ray of light shot down on Logan like it was some divine revelation from some Broadway show. "Gotta wait, sorry, ye know, protocols."
"No problem." Logan saluted at the figure beyond the projector, squinting. In the harsh illumination, his face revealed him to be in his early sixties; his beard was shortly trimmed and all white. And yet with all that he wore an aura of a younger and stronger fella, as Nick estimated, seemingly slender and fit.
"Who's with ya?" the voice from up the fence demanded.
"Some new friendly faces that helped me find somebody we're looking for. I should speak to Todd about it."
"We sent for 'im."
"Good." Logan cast a glance at the three, gave an apologetic shrug. "Can't be too careful, eh."
Alicia had withdrawn from Tom and stood waiting by the side of the car, trying to look friendly enough without appearing to be an easy target.
She was tired and now the adrenaline from earlier was fading, she felt it more acutely. She thought about her bed with a sense of longing.
"We understand," she told Logan.
Troy stood beside Alicia while Logan waited on Todd's approval on the body drop. His right hand habitually rested on the butt of his gun. He hated feeling exposed.
"We should give Logan the body and go," Troy commented, keeping his voice low enough so that only his friends could hear him.
"Let them come claim him themselves," Alicia murmured. "They'll want to. If they loved him."
"He's here. We brought him back. Whether they take him from the back of the Humvee or from the ground. End result's the same. Waiting on them to give us the green light is stupid."
After a while, the gate gave out a metal clattering, sliding open just enough to let in one man, and Logan was invited. He gave the trio a wait-up wave and went in. The projector shifted to the Humvee roof, catching Alicia and Troy in the blinding circle, making them squint.
"It's not stupid for them to be cautious with their lives, Troy," Nick said in a tired voice. "You should know, all that hell you gave new people at the ranch."
"It's about respect," Alicia replied, shielding her eyes. "Not much left of it in the world. We can afford to show some humanity at the moment." She turned to watch Troy. "If that changes, however, don't hesitate to shoot."
Nick couldn't help but laugh silently with a taint of some dark amusement he didn't enjoy.
"Respect is a concept that no longer has a place in this world – not when it comes to first impressions," Troy stated. "These people hold all the cards. They also hold the light." Quite literally it shone in his eyes. He didn't move much though as he spoke, attempting to look as relaxed as he could. "You two should know better given who your mother is."
Alicia put her hands on her hips, facing him. "What is that supposed to mean?"
Metal clattered once again, and Logan walked out followed by two people in hospital scrubs wearing medical masks. They were carrying a stretcher. In the tail of the procession was a big guy also wearing a mask. He looked a bit disheveled, his hair tousled as he had just been pulled from his bed.
The two scrubs followed Logan to the Humvee flatbed and carefully tended to the body while the big man nodded at Alicia, Troy, and Nick.
"Hey, folks," he said. "Logan here tells me yer the ones who found our Tommy. Ye have our thanks, we do appreciate the help and friendly faces. Sorry 'bout the masks – our policies. If ye need anything we can pay back the kindness, tell us, we help if we can. Water or any medication… I'm told one of ye's injured."
Troy stepped aside, putting space between himself and the group so that if they did attack or decided to snipe them from above, they'd be able to spread out. Alicia and Nick, however, weren't in the same frame of mind, clustered together as if they were partaking in a normal social gathering. He wished they'd be more cautious. A lot more cautious.
"Bullets," Troy interjected, glossing over water and medical options. "We need weapons."
He wasn't wrong, but it still sounded like a lot to ask for to Alicia's ears. "We're sorry for your loss," she added softly.
"I'm sorry, those we cannot spare," the big man said, nodding at Alicia in mute acceptance of her condolences. "We got our people to protect, as ye can see, given ye brought us our fallen one. But what I mentioned we can share. And, eh…" He combed a hand through his hair, sighing. "There's a thing… Saw ye guys aroun' a day ago – was you, wasn' it?"
"Correct," Nick said. "Sorry we worried you, but we meant no harm, just passing through."
"Sure thin', I understand. Fair to mention we didn't mean to worry ye either. But with Tom… If ye linger for another day wherever yer stayin' – we guessed it's in one of them empty houses – we'd like to hear 'bout that business. How ye found 'im and such. It'd be appreciated."
Alicia looked between Troy and Nick, trying not to let her discomfort at that show. "We'll talk it over tomorrow and see how things are," she said kindly. "We've taken quite a beating ourselves, so we can't make any promises for meetups at the moment. Hope you understand."
"I sure do, young ma'am, but ye gotta understand me, too – I mean, the boy had loved ones, they wanna know 'bout it, and if ye can help us learn somethin', it's gonna go a long with us. I do get yer tired an' all, but just askin' to think 'bout it. 'S well as those medications – ye need anythin', come to our gates an' ask for Todd, we'll settle it. Well, 's about what I wanted to say. Have yerselves a good night, and thank ye."
"Thank you, too," Nick said, and the man left.
"Well, not much, but it's a good start," Logan commented when the gates shut and the projector went off. "I take it you guys wanna rest. Tell ya what: I'm gonna be at the marker tomorrow, fueling up and figuring things out. If ye've somethin' to discuss or ask – yer welcome to come talk to me. If not – well, we're on the radio when we're in range – holler, our crew will help ya if we can. It's nice meetin' ya."
Of course it wasn't as simple as a drop-off. They wanted details. Descriptive details. And weren't even going to give them ammunition for it.
"And you," Troy said echoing Logan's sentiment. Only one of them meant it. When the three were alone and they were swashed in darkness again, Troy gave Nick the 'are you satisfied' look. He doubted his friend could see it.
"Let's go home."
Troy was tired and the day was beginning to catch up with him in a way it hadn't in a very long time. He hadn't done much on a physical aspect, but emotionally, his annoyance levels had been up and down.
He strode toward the front of the Humvee, jumping into the driver's seat, hearing as well as seeing Logan's truck drive off into the opposite direction. After his friends had caught up, Troy slowly drove back toward their base, being sure to take the long way, studying the rearview mirror, on the lookout for anyone who might be following them – paranoia he couldn't switch off.
Alicia was silent on the drive back, her stomach in a dull but unmistakable knot of guilt. They didn't owe the people at the settlement anything. They'd delivered their dead, had warned the truckers of the danger out there so they were better prepared.
But somehow she wasn't so sure Nick would agree. His moral compass was stronger than Alicia's these days. He may want to offer up the truth. A truth that could get them all killed.
She climbed out of the car once Troy had pulled up in front of her temporary house, closing the door behind her.
"You should take a shower. Clean that wound," she told her brother wearily. "I'll get a fresh change of bandages ready."
Nick nodded, closing his door, and followed Alicia inside the house. He went for the bathroom right away, feeling his stamina would only drain more further on, and it was best to make the best use of it now. He popped another pill, washed it down with tap water, then began to undress.
Water gave a good promise of making it all feel nicer, but what it did was bite into his side as if it was a giant snake. Nick hissed and tried his best to not irritate the wound more than he had to in order to clean himself. When he was done and had his jeans on, he dropped the dirty torn shirt into the wastebasket where the used bandage had gone earlier, and went to his room, his jacket in his hand. There had to be some spare somewhere, and the cool air fanning over his skin felt nice.
Troy dropped the two at the house and then drove the Humvee across the street to the gas station. He parked the army vehicle in the same place he had the night before, only this time he kept the keys on hand.
It took him five minutes to get back, another five to navigate the front yard and set the added security of the battery to the front door.
He listened for signs of the two moving about the house, respectively going about closing off the night, and started to his bedroom, sipping water from his neon pink bottle.
"Night!" Troy called from the top of the landing, peeling off his clothing as he swept the door closed behind him, tossing the items toward the dresser. He hadn't bothered with the light as he climbed in beneath the sheets.
The morning was chilly. Nick carefully slipped out to the porch, avoiding Troy's traps the best he could, and lit a cigarette, watching the sky gradually lighten up and shift from red to fading pink. He could've slept longer - he didn't feel all that rested or ready for running a cross - but he had spent the night in fits and starts, dreaming about the dreadlocks woman and the dead trucker with some cameo of Jeremiah he barely remembered.
His side was giving him a bit of trouble that only just started to ease up as the pills were taking hold. There was too little left in the baggie, and he had to find more somewhere. Or stuck up on some weaker substitute. His mind shot back to the night before and what that man named Todd said.
Nick sighed, and took a long drag, letting the smoke out through his nostrils, watching the sky get brighter.
Alicia joined him a short while later, her arms wrapped around her sweater-clad torso to stave off the cold morning chill.
She looked around, peering back into the kitchen and living room before stepping out and letting the door close behind her.
"Thought it was Troy I heard moving about. He's usually up super early."
Alicia perched on the banister, holding her hand out for a drag of Nick's cigarette. "Couldn't sleep?"
He shook his head with a brief grimace indicating her guess was correct, handing her the cigarette. "What about you? You looked half-dead with exhaustion. Same as Troy who's taking advantage now."
"I haven't slept right since the ranch," she replied, inhaling on the cigarette before handing it back. She breathed the smoke out and watched it dissipate. "Sometimes I envy Troy his… ability to not care."
Nick hemmed, subtly amused. "He's not as chill as he looks. Without his ranch, he's a fish out of water."
"Perhaps. But he doesn't have any of that pesky guilt to keep him awake either. He told me."
"Guilt keeps you up?"
She shrugged. "I've a lot of it."
He considered her for a long moment. "You need to find a way to get right with it. Things you've done - those I know of - were the only way. That pantry was not your fault."
"I know," she replied. "And the trucker wasn't yours."
"There's a motherload without him in it." He dragged on his cigarette and put out the butt on the railing, then flicked it away.
As soon as Troy's eyes opened, he wanted to close them again – and did. Time passed in jumpy spaces, moving both slow and fast. He checked the time on his digital watch, sensing that it was getting later and that the day was beginning to waste away. When he opened his eyes again, it was a quarter past seven, and then half-past seven, when he checked it again it was eight twenty.
An hour had passed and his motivation and want to get up hadn't changed, getting harder and harder. He swallowed, his throat hurt and he reached for the neon pink bottle he'd put on the nightstand to soothe it. The water didn't help.
Troy rolled from beneath the covers, sweeping the sheets aside with arms that felt heavy and numb, his right nostril closing in protest. He swiped at his nose, irritated by the unexpected and discomforting stuffiness, heading for the bathroom to brush his teeth.
"Of guilt?" Alicia angled her head to look at Nick. "About what?"
He looked at her with an amused surprise, chuckled, lighting another smoke. "Not to turn it into a pissing contest, but I've done a lot of bad things for bad reasons, Lisha. You're better than me. And I love that you are."
"Yeah, you've done some shit," Alicia agreed because what was the point in trying to deny it? "But a lot of that wasn't you. Heroin changed you into something you're not."
"Think I'm still that? What I'm not?"
She looked at him. "When we were on the yacht I felt like I was getting my big brother back. The ranch too, in part. Even if you were hanging out with the wrong crowd." She smirked. "Now I'm… You're not the same as you were in LA. But I worry what will happen once those painkillers run dry. And they have to, you know? You can't keep taking them. There's a reason they only prescribe them for a very short time period. Even after major surgeries."
His face didn't sell out any things her words stirred within him; he looked away, exhaling smoke. "If you'll keep worrying about things you can't control, you'll go crazy. It's gonna be okay."
"I only have two modes, Nick: worry and ignore. I shut you out for years, to make sure I wouldn't fall into the deep dark abyss. I became selfish because it was the only way I would survive. I didn't believe you would ever change." Too much honesty maybe. But sometimes honesty was needed. "If I go back to being that person now I'll have no place in a group."
"There can be a third way," he mused. "You gotta trust me to take care of me. I know it's hard for you to trust me on this, but I'd love it if you tried."
"I am trying," she said softly. "Prove to me that I can relax a little, hm?" She reached out to ruffle his hair fondly. "Your wound looks like it's healing alright. As long as you take it easy for a little while longer."
He made himself smile. "You won't see me parkour across the roofs today or tomorrow, I promise."
"I appreciate it." She slid off the banister. "I'll go check on Troy. Make sure he didn't run off in the night. Then I'll get some breakfast going."
Nick nodded, taking another drag. The air was warming up a little.
Alicia headed inside and up the stairs, knocking on Troy's ajar bedroom door when she reached it. "Troy? You up?"
There was no answer so she opened the door wide and peered inside.
His room was empty, bed still crumpled. She turned and peered down the hallway. "Troy?"
Brushing his teeth hadn't helped. Troy's throat still hurt and his nostril had only temporarily opened while he'd showered. Troy grimaced when he heard Alicia call for him. He pulled on a fresh white shirt and then his jeans, towel drying his hair as he moved to open the bathroom door.
"What's up?" he asked, surprised that his voice had a croak to it. He cleared his throat.
She stepped back, the steam rising from the open doorway. "Just came to make sure you're okay. You're usually up by now," she commented, looking him over. He didn't look all that great. "Didn't get any sleep?"
"No. None—" His body stated he needed more sleep. A lot more. Standing upright was beginning to pain him and he could feel a cough worming its way up his throat. "—I'm fine. Do we have plans for today? Are we meeting Logan?"
Alicia eyed him closely, suspiciously. He looked almost hungover. Or… sick.
She leaned in and put the back of her hand upon Troy's forehead. "You've a fever," she said, somewhat surprised by that. After everything that had happened, Troy had been the most unscathed. Somewhere along the road, she'd almost started to believe he couldn't be harmed. "Your throat hurting?"
Troy's reaction time was sluggish as he swept her hand aside lightly. "I'm fine," he repeated, his voice coming out thicker and even more foreign than before. "I just—I need water." He made to step around her, pushing his way back into his room, retrieve the bottle from the bedside table. He sat to drink, his legs tired.
Alicia followed. "You lying to me?" she asked casually, leaning against the doorway. "The world won't end anew if you take a day off, Troy."
Was he lying? Yeah. Troy hadn't been sick since he'd been a child and there had been a time where he believed he'd grown immune. Why had that changed now? What did he do differently?
He sighed. "Are we planning to meet Logan?"
"Nope. So you can take it easy," Alicia replied. "Get back in bed. I'll bring you something more to drink. See if I can find some soup."
Troy wouldn't admit it to her but it gave him a sense of relief, allowing him to flop back onto the mattress and into the pillows. He closed his eyes. "I'm not hungry."
"Now I know you're sick," she smirked, pushing away from the door and heading downstairs to rifle through the boxes of canned food.
After his third cigarette was down to the tiniest butt, Nick flicked it away and returned inside to the kitchen where Alicia was going through the drawers a bit intensely.
"Anything left for breakfast?" he asked.
"Lots of beans for some reason," she murmured, arm buried in a box. "Troy's got a fever. A cold probably." She retrieved a can and turned it to read the label. "Tomato soup. I was hoping for chicken noodle soup."
Nick stared, had to process it for a moment. "He what? A cold? Troy? You sure that fever doesn't come from something else, like he's hurt or bit?"
"Well, I didn't examine him." She looked at Nick over her shoulder, a small smile. "You're free to give that a try. He's usually so cooperative." She opened the tin of soup and poured it into a casserole.
He gave her a long look, still feeling as if he stepped into some different reality. The idea of Troy catching a cold was alien, out of place, like a pea in a pile of perfect pearls.
"Hell, I guess I have to see it." He went to do just that.