Dead love in my hands (Troy Otto story/ Fear the walking dead/ ftwd)

Interrogation

In the morning I was awakened by a knock on the door. I looked at my wristwatch: it was half past five in the morning. Troy's harsh voice rang out:

"Hey doctor, wake up and sing, we're leaving in half an hour."

"Got it," I shouted through the door.

I took a quick shower, cleaned myself up a bit, got dressed and left the room.

Walking down the narrow hallway, listening to the men's voices, I found myself in a small room that turned out to be both a living room and an office. An older man was sitting at a desk, and Troy was across from him, discussing something heatedly, occasionally whispering in a way I couldn't make out, and they'd stopped talking almost as soon as I'd arrived.

"Good morning, I'm Jeremiah Otto, the owner of this ranch. Yesterday you had the honor of meeting my youngest son," the man remarked wryly, "I apologize for him, he's impulsive."

Troy rolled his eyes defiantly.

I replied to his father:

"Nice to meet you, I'm Della Diaz, thank you for letting me stop."

"Oh, you have my scary son Jake to thank for that. Diaz... so you're Mexican?"

"Well, not exactly. My husband was Spanish, we lived in Madrid."

"So Spanish, not too much of a differen...", Jeremiah started to speak, but I interrupted him:

"Again, no," I smiled, "I'm actually from Russia. Adelina is my full name, Adelina Rachmaninova."

"Wow, how did you end up here, little girl?"

"Dad!", Troy interrupted him, "We should get going," and turning to me, "Do you want coffee?"

"Honestly, a coffee would be nice."

"Leave the room, walk a couple steps, there's a door on the right, it's the kitchen."

"Oh, I know, Jake showed it to me yesterday."

"I'll be waiting outside, have a drink and come out."

I poured coffee into a mug labeled "Galveston" and opened the refrigerator looking for milk. There was no milk, of course. Naive. People have an interesting nature: just yesterday I was sleeping on the ground hoping to find a can of canned goods, and today I'm upset that there's no milk in the fridge to go with my coffee. Upon reflection, I took a couple sips of coffee, wrinkled my nose, poured the rest of the mug's contents into the sink and rinsed it off. Then I stepped out of the house onto the small terrace. It was already light, and the sun was slowly rising. Troy was sitting on a rock outside the house drinking water. The morning was cool, and I was glad I was wearing a sweatshirt. As I walked down the wooden steps, I was about to say I was ready to hit the road, but Troy stopped me:

"Why so slow, I thought you were the one who needed an outing!"

"Sorry, but I didn't hear Jake come out, so I figured there was still time. Where is he, by the way?"

"All right, let's go!"

"Where's Jake?"

"I spoke to him, he's sure Clara's dead, we don't need to wait for him, he won't help, but I'm willing to make amends for attacking you for, as it turns out, no reason."

"You seem like a man when you're sober, Troy."

"Oh, yeah, you're lucky."

"You fell in love?",  I grinned.

"Naturally, you won my heart, the first girl who had the guts to take my rifle away from me, too bad you were already taken!"

I didn't bother responding to his sarcasm. Jumping into the car, I pulled my hood up and stared out the window.