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

As he promised

It's been a few weeks since Madison, Alisha, Jake and Kevin left the ranch. Nick took them to the house where I stayed with Dean not so long ago.

Troy looked better. His leg was healing, but that couldn't be said for his state of mind. More and more often, I caught something like devastation in his eyes. Sometimes it was replaced by anger, sometimes by calmness, but I never saw a drop of the old expression in them. He did not show his feelings, and waved away questions about them. We didn't talk much.

Otto spent most of his time alone or with my father. In the morning they were sitting in the kitchen and talking about something. At least it made me happy. Of course, my family couldn't drown out Troy's grief for his family, but nevertheless, it must have supported him a little. Anyway, I was pleased that they were so close.

Nick and I ran the ranch mostly. Troy referred to his health when we tried to involve him in business or asked for advice. He tacitly resigned. People didn't understand it yet, but it was only a matter of time.

Clark led the militia quite successfully. He didn't want to be a leader, and that's probably why he became one. The irony of fate. I solved the issues of resource allocation, although they were routine, but I had to do it on a daily basis. Basically, it consisted in calculating what should be given to the kitchen for cooking, how much and to whom to give seeds for crops, as well as in the provision of medicines and self-care products. Nick dealt with guns, so at least I didn't touch it. Before me, some Walker girl was in charge of resources, and Coop, Rob, and Kevin worked with her in shifts...

It was difficult for me to do this job, especially because now I often had to turn people away. When I first came to the ranch, I thought that the supplies were unlimited, but, alas, there are not so many left. This was especially true for shampoos, soaps, feminine hygiene products and pills. According to my calculations, many girls too often resorted to the use of express contraception, and also most often took painkillers from medicines, there were literally a couple of packages left. But there was still an unimaginable amount of alcohol left in the warehouse. However, this did not solve our problems...

As I was counting the number of pregnancy tests, Clark came up to me.

"How are you? Have you calculated everything yet?"

"Not really. But I'll be done soon. Is there something urgent?"

"No, I just decided to find out what our situation is."

"In a way, it's unfortunate. And in a way,"I picked up a bottle of Whiskey and shook it, "it's pretty good."

At that moment, Troy appeared in the doorway.

"Hi," Nick waved at him, "how's the leg?"

"As soon as I take the painkillers, everything will be perfect."

"Troy, by the way, there aren't many painkillers left..."

Otto interrupted me by grabbing the bottle I had just bragged about to Nick.

"I'm not taking pills, this will suit me even better!" he limped to the exit.

Nick waited until Otto came out before speaking:

"How many of these bottles has he already drunk?"

"For today or at all?"

"I see. It's bad. He's turning into his father. Slowly but surely."

"He's just not feeling well."

"Della, he's been drinking for a week now. And Troy never drinks at all. This is going to end badly. You should talk to him."