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

Shop

We walked around the store. It seemed much smaller from the outside than it really was. The food was gone, of course. But there were clothes. I started picking up T-shirts, socks, and even underwear.

Troy looked for tools that could be used as weapons. He only found a couple hammers and went to the rack of sunglasses. Most of them were broken or just plain broken. After a couple seconds of trying them on, Troy turned to me. He was wearing a pair of silly kid sunglasses with huge eyebrows pinned on top. He smiled and waited for a reaction, spreading his arms like an actor who had just finished a scene. I laughed.

Then Otto went off somewhere. I continued to sort through my clothes. After picking up two bags for Troy and me, I noticed some more sneakers, but alas, not in our size.

About ten minutes later, I heard Otto yell my name. Startled, I dropped the bags and ran toward him. I found myself at the second entrance to the store, which was in the back, and saw Troy squatting on the floor, lifting some cloth with his left hand, canisters underneath.

He shifted his gaze to me. His eyes sparkled.

"Do you smell that odor? It's gasoline, Dell!"

"It can't be. There are ten canisters here..."

"Eleven! That's the jackpot!"

"We're in luck!" laughed I joyfully.

"Yeah, but we've got to get out of here fast. Someone left them here, you know?"

"Maybe we shouldn't take them all?"

"Are you crazy? You haven't walked in a while?"

"But, Troy, it's disgusting. People collected them for themselves..."

"I don't care about them. It's their own fault for leaving it unattended, or maybe they're already dead. Come on, get the car to this entrance, I'll move them."

"Let's leave at least one canister here?"

"Della, don't you understand me? We're taking them all. That's what I've decided."

I walked silently back to the car. I didn't feel comfortable with the idea that the people who'd left the gasoline could come back here at any moment, so I didn't want to argue with Troy, and it was useless, especially since he was right about something. It was just the humanity in me. Grabbing the bags of clothes I'd found here, I jumped into the car and started it up. Suddenly I saw movement from the side. Turning to the window, I froze in fear. A hooded man was looking at me and pointing a gun. After a moment, he said loudly:

"Get out of the car and put your hands behind your head."

I wasn't going to do that, of course. So I stepped on the gas. I heard a gunshot. But it just missed me. I quickly rounded the store. Troy was standing there with two canisters in his hands and a perplexed look. I opened the window as I walked yelled:

"Get in the car!"

Troy knew what to do without my words. I paused, reached for the door, and opened it for Otto. He swung it open with his foot and jumped into the car with the canisters in his hands. I stepped on the gas.

"Who was shooting? What was that?!"

"Probably whoever left the gasoline."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

"You're super."

"You too," I looked at the canisters Troy was holding at his feet and smiled.

"Too bad I only had time to grab two," he shook his head.

"And that's a lot of luck."

My heart was still pounding with fear. I thought Troy could feel it pounding.