𝙵𝙻𝙴𝚂𝙷 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙱𝙾𝙽𝙴 | 𝚃. 𝙾𝚃𝚃𝙾 𐂃

- Troy -

Silence stalked the perimeter of Black Hat Reservation.
 
Laying flat on his stomach, Troy peered through his night binoculars and adjusted the magnifications while scanning the heavily armed patrols on guard duty. Their system was tight, but they'd marked the blind spots beforehand and he and his men were able to thread as close as possible with their trucks. But Troy was still prepared for the worst case scenario, going out guns blazing. Every little thing was so tenuous that any change or sound might tip this ambush in the wrong direction. The hostility between his family and the Nation was something as old, if not even older than him. Lowering his binocular, Troy crawled back over the curve of the high, slanted grass hill able to shield them. His narrowed eyes flicked to the restless carcasses secured by rope near their necks and torso's. Burlap sacks covered their heads and while their snarls were more or less subdued, the sound was still grating to the ears. "They influence each other's behavior." He thought back to the theory Cristine explained him and Troy still couldn't help his fascination with the wasted. These mindless corpses were going to save their people all thanks to Cristine's ingenuity.
 
"Their patrol's tight, but they also seem to be preparing to leave. Like Madison said, Walker is going to strike while the iron's hot and we're recovering," Troy looked his eyes in the eye one by one, unsure if these same faces would make or if this was their last stand, his included. "You all have your orders. Where you need to be and where we'll rendezvous after the signal of retreat. Cooper is in charge of the archers and will stay near the hill. The rest of you are with me, where we release the dead on their camp and hide in the grass in pairs of two. The dead will draw them out and once they're close enough you go for the non-lethal injuries and knock them out if you have to, but don't kill if it isn't necessary, this is about the element of surprise. But defend yourself if you have to, just don't go for the head." After summarizing the plan Troy's voice sharpened, "now not everyone's going to make it, but we fight until the end to keep our family and friends, our home safe, or they will be slaughtered, all of them. The only thing that can save them and all they have is us right now. Draw strength that we'll save them and they have one more day to live. Now, everyone to their positions." Troy looked at Cooper, who nodded in understanding and silently signaled at his squad of marksmen to follow his trail to the better side of the hill where they had full view of their targets.
 
For the last thirty hours, Troy and his squadron had been awake in full camo, prepping for tonight's attack. The most arduous task was securing the dead. Troy was used to the harsh, barren conditions of the wasteland. The lack of his was something he was used to and exhaustion didn't deter him as much. There was no place for sleep, or hesitation or doubts or anything not part of this mission. The militant fighter needed to stay sharp and on guard at all times. Troy lifted his arm and slid down the sleeve of his night camo and scanned his watch, counting the time it took for Coop to leave. They were going to cut down and drop the dead from this hill and unleash them on Walker's camp in one minute.
 
Fifteen seconds passed and watching the time tick by, Troy thought back to the few hours before leaving the Ranch, and he couldn't help but harshly gnash at his lips. For some reason his heart  slowly began to pound harder and harder in his chest and he couldn't distinguish it as thrill for the impending battle to come or simply wanting to return to get clarity.
 
 
~
 
Troy fastened the supplies in the back of the truck. The bustling of the others a menial distraction to the fact that they were going to Black Hat Reservation such a small group in such a short time again. To think this all started with Walker shooting down their helicopter when they returned home. It was insane that barely a week and a half had passed since then. It felt as if time moved so much slower, but according to his they were already sixty-five days in the Apocalypse. Troy couldn't help but smile that bizarre smirk of his at the idea that the concept and feeling of time could betray one's body so much.
 
"You're creeping the others out." Troy's smile didn't falter when he heard Cristine's chastising tone and loaded the last bucket in the truck. Despite everything, the horrors, and death, Troy was in a very good mood, not even Cristine jabs annoyed him.
 
"I know you're worried about me deep down doc', no need to mask it with insults." Troy's remark was a playful jab after he clicked the cords around the supplies and weapons they would need. In the meantime Cristine up and down as if had grown a second head and saw her mood only worsen at his lack of tact. "You care and need me back alive, right?" Troy's smug remarks were jab of banter at Cristine's forbidding response and Troy shook his head when she kissed the back of her teeth, a tick that displayed her irritation with him. Troy's non-verbal counter in the form of his infuriating smirk elicited Cristine's trademark scowl.
 
"I see your ego is back at it's peak again." Hand on her hips and chin raised, her eyes contracted and the muscles around the outer area visibly tightened. Troy tilted his head to the side and leaned the side of his body against the back of the truck and his eyes swiftly looked her up and down. 
 
"I don't know what the future will bring. It's not like I won't try my best, but if it is my fate tonight is my last day walking… so be it. This was always how my life was planned Cristine. I know I won't grow old and die in my sleep with satisfied smile on my face." As his words registered, Troy saw how Cristine's expression darkened and pinched the bridge of her nose and heard her mumble something among the lines of, "you've got to be kidding me," looked at their surroundings, noting most were too occupied to care about them, and surprised Troy by stepping closer and asked in soft, but even tune, "do you know why I asked you to come back alive?"
 
Troy licked his lower lip and mellowed down his laid-back attitude. His answer the same as always. He had betrayed Cristine in a sense by lying and breaking her trust. "So we can fix our friendship to what it was before," he answered in the simplest way possible.
 
Cristine her breathing turned slightly uneven, thoughts filtering and deciding on how to deliver the right response. This wasn't just about their friendship. It was about her feelings, as messed up as they were, and the way Troy was obsessively trying to make things right in ways that were normal and comfortable for him, but agitating to her; through lies and manipulation. He went that far to keep what they had as friends intact. In a perfect world, Cristine wanted Troy to break those obsessive habits, because it wasn't friends did and it definitely wasn't how she wanted to give anything more a chance. But wasn't a perfect world and she'd aim for what she knew what she earned, even if she didn't feel the way she did about Troy. "That will be the starting point. This-" Cristine pointed her finger between their bodies and explained it with as much clarity as she could, "we aren't going to return to how it was before.
 
Seeing Troy struggle to form a response, let alone register her words, he said, voice pure confusion, "but I thought you said-" His brain coiled over the fact that he hadn't seen this coming from a mile away. It completely caught Troy off-guard and left him flabbergasted and stabbed in the back.
 
 
~
 
 
Troy's darkened eyes dilated the moment he recalled the conversation and the sound of his beeping watch brought him back to reality at the one minute mark. Crouched with the lined up dead at the edge of the hill, his nerves curled into a single ball of icy focus, despite the energy of his soldiers and the infected pushing him to act. Troy gestured at his soldiers to follow his lead. He harshly tugged at the fresh ropes, agitating the blinded dead even more, their snarl and hissing getting worse and loud enough that the sound would echo into the night. Unsheathing his machete from his waist, Troy tugged the burlap bag from the first dead it's head, cut the binds and kicked it in the back of it's legs and watched it roll down the hill like a human bowling man. He did the same for the next three infected and the others followed his lead. They managed to transport more than a dozen infected to unleash them on the Nation's camp without putting themselves at risk.
 
Glancing over his shoulders, Troy flexed his hand and with a few simple hand signals and everyone silently spread in pairs. The distant sound of yelling and gunshots was the cue to jolt into action and hide between the grass. When he raised his head to peek over the edge of the tilting hill, he spotted the ant-like figures and the dimmed lights of the Nation's camp. The gunshots weren't as vibrant, which meant they were going to take out the dead by hand and scout further out their perimeter for more. Troy maintained the same space as before, his partner hot on his heels, and the two made it to a pretty decent spot behind one of the boulders in under half a minute. His breathing steady, Troy pressed his hand on his partner's chest to keep still and unsheathed his slicked machete coated in blood of the infected. Someone drew close. Troy lowered his legs slowly and clenched the hilt of his weapon when a flashlight began to scan the area next to them.
 
"Be alert for more infected. We don't want to draw more with our guns," he heard one of the men order. As the person got closer, the moment Troy caught the outline of a limb, he yanked the metal ahead of him. The hunk of steel sunk into flesh and the unsuspecting soldier cried in surprised pain. Troy slammed the but of his machete into his temple, knocking him out cold and another break in the action heightened his senses.
 
"There's someone- gsh" Troy smirked in spite of himself and burst into action from his hiding spot. One of his snipers probably had a clear shot from their position and Troy tackled the unsuspecting man on the dirt. It was a struggle, but he managed to punch the lights out with a crushing blow to his jaw. This was going to be one of the most draining night, but as he looked at the environment he noted that Walker's men were getting picked apart whether by the dead or his own fighters.
 
Bullets bounced at his feet and Troy jumped back into his hiding spot. The pants coming from his mouth were deep and Troy licked his walky-talky, "release the next batch of dead where their families are located. We need to spread their fighters thin." The radio crackles and the static voice replied, "copy that boss. Next wave coming in. One minute left to find a new hideout or you'll be flanked by the infected and armed hostiles." The adrenaline thrill left Troy a bit  giddy, but it also pushed him back into focus. Checking his riffle and magazine clips, Troy pressed his back against the rock and checked his watch and watched the numbers moved, waiting as half a minute passed. Patience was key and sticking to the plan was the only way they'd win. It was the only way he'd return back home to get the clarification he needed to put what Cristine told him before he left into perspective.
 
 
~
 
"That will be the starting point. This-" Cristine pointed her finger between their bodies and explained it with as much clarity as she could, " we aren't going to return to how it was before."
 
Seeing Troy struggle to form a response, let alone register her words, he said, voice pure confusion, "but I thought you said-" His brain coiled over the fact that he hadn't seen this coming from a mile away. It completely caught Troy off-guard and left him flabbergasted and stabbed in the back.
 
Cristine her voice pushed through the confines of his thoughts, her clarification stilling him, "I know what I said, but seeing jumping with joy to die for the cause made me rethink what I really want out of our friendship. Especially when the stakes this high and the future uncertain. I don't want it to be too late." Cristine lost her mother before she could even understand the world. She lost her mentor. Colleagues and friends. She lost her father in a sense too and hadn't truly remedied the past with her broken family. Cristine lost people when there was an inkling of hope and she wanted to at least feel she could holding onto those small things. This might be selfish, but she didn't care and would lay her feelings out in the open. There were worse things to deal with than rejection.
 
"Too late for what?" Seeing Troy look at her with guarded confusion and suspicion blossomed a weak smile on her face.
 
"Too late to tell you that I care about you… as more than a friend and I want to see where it goes when we fix things between us. I want what I say to matter to you too. I hope what I say matters enough that you'll come back." Like the beginning of a sequence of ripples starting from a pebble being throw into water, that was how the implication of Cristine's confession slammed into Troy's psyche. She watched his response unfold, dark irises peering up searching for a positive sign. She felt her face warm up from the piercing blue stare and Cristine waited until he said something in response to her confession. The twist of his brows deepened and his eyes narrowed. She saw his thoughts race like a burst of firework. Troy obviously didn't expected this. Hadn't expected Cristine to say something so illogical in the spur of the moment given that there was already so much going on.
 
Cristine eventually reached out and squeezed the side of his arm to jostle him from withdrawing into his mind. The militant and manipulative Troy wasn't looking at her. His eyes stretched and his mouth was slack, but the words were stuck in his throat, leaving him speechless and confused and uncertain of the proper way to reply. Troy's uniform was of a sturdy material, but for some reason he felt the warmth of Cristine's hand through the fabric and he becoming more aware of the tingling feel. Conscious of the way the heat twisted inside his gut and starting from there it crept up the rest of his skin like a rash. It was the same as in the cave as they hid from the dead, but now Cristine simply said that she… she liked him.
 
She liked him.
 
Cristine didn't want to pressure Troy more than she had. Alternating her stare between his eyes, mouth, and the rest of his face she said, "we won't talk about it now for obvious reason. But we will and everything else when you get back." Cristine gave Troy a final look, hoping he'd understand that she was being pushy because she wanted him to care enough about her request that it was important to her. This was definitely his call as much as it was hers. And while she didn't want it to be, rejection could be a possibility. Cristine just wanted to make her intentions clear. The next step was for Troy to tell her what he wanted out of all of this. So they could build and understand the already shifting dynamics in their relationship, whether platonic or romantic. They both needed to thread the waters of opening up on a different emotional level. A level that went beyond their natural trust when it came to survival and fighting. It was more than that now.
 
~
 
 
Troy sniped a few of Walker's men in their limps, anything that kept them alive. The occasional one, he had no choice but to put down, all whilst avoiding a headshot. Troy sprinted to his next location, just in time he and his pair escaped the assault of the dead heading to their next meal. "Alright, keep your eyes peeled, we're going out." The two caught their breath at the next rendezvous point and Troy was too focused on hostilities to notice that his partner's breathing was unnaturally heavy.
 
"Troy. I'm hit."
 
"What?!" Troy twisted around and saw the slightly older man, probably Jake's age, press his hand into his gut. A thick, liquid poured between his fingers and Troy saw it already stain the dirt in a trail. Pushing down the twitch on his face, he crouched down to examine the wound. His face remained stone cold, assessing the next move. He would have no one to watch his back and he needed to pick one more spot before shooting the flare for the others to retreat. Troy didn't have time to treat or carry him with him. There was too much at stake and-
 
"Just go. I knew what I signed up for." Blue eyes flicked up at the feverish looking man who seemed at peace with his fate. "I'll take care of myself."
 
"Right," Troy nodded and remembered that this was one of the new recruits. "You're name's Cole right?"
 
"Yeah. Surprised you remembered."
 
"Who wouldn't You're one of the first who killed an infected when you arrived." Troy's eyes flicked in the direction of the ruddy blonde clumsily grabbing for his handgun in his holster. "You impressed a lot of people." Troy helped the man with his gun and sighed, "you uh- you got someone left back at the Ranch? Someone I can relay your last words to?"
 
Cole bared his blood-stained teeth, wincing in pain from trying to raise his arm. "I came with my ma and my little brother… but they didn't make it through the anthrax attack. My girl made it… just tell her.. Tell her it's… I don't blame her for waiting…" Cole's breath turned heavy and grasping his gun he did his best to raise his arm, only to cry out in pain and his good arm dropped back down the dirt. "Shit! Can't even kill myself in decency." Troy opened his tactical vest and his gaze chilled more and Cole chuckled, "that bad huh, Otto?"
 
"The bullet went through muscle and tissue. It's why you can't lift your arm."
 
It was quiet for a bit until Cole asked, "can you do put me down? I want to at least die decently."
 
Troy nodded and accepted the gun before wiping it a bit from his blood. When he held the cool steel in his hand, Troy rose, took a few steps back, and pointed the end of the barrel at Cole. Loosening the safety, Troy aimed for the man's head and squeezed the trigger, however at the last moment Troy changed trajectory and shot point blank for Cole's chest. Troy watched Cole's body jerk from the impact of the gunshot to his heart before his lifeless body slumped down. Silently, he clipped Cole's handgun in the back of his pants. After, Troy dropped to his knees again and began to strip his former partner of his other weapons and clasped them around his body. It added more weight, but he was going to fight for two at this point. "You fought well Cole, but I really need to get out of this alive and I can't be picky at this point." Troy explained as if he had to justify his action just now. Besides, Cole was dead weight the moment he got hit. Troy just made sure Cole's death wasn't a waste. No one would know… well he would have tell Cristine, but he wasn't worried about it as much given that someone would put Cole down one eventually. He was just using what he got, pushed into a corner, to his advantage. "You see, fresh bodies are stronger and have more vigor in them compared to the ones we collected. You'll serve as the perfect distraction at this checkpoint and hopefully take down one or two since we're close at their living quarters. The helpless ones, like your mom and your brother. See it as retribution for what they did to our vulnerable ones." Troy pushed Cole's slouched head back and peered into the cold, hollow black of his stretched pupils before looking at his watch. Sighing, he grabbed the end of his feet and began to drag Cole to a more secluded area, luckily without any guards in sight.
 
Crouching back down, Troy checked his weapons and muttered under his breath, fully immersed with talking about one of the things he would probably never tire of. A genuine smile even arched his lips. "Also, when I still had my many scientific discussions with our doc' she said something else could affect the speed how long it takes one to turn. She shared something really interesting that I, unfortunately, couldn't test at the depot; separating subjects according to their state of mind. Cristine theorized that aggressive or adrenaline high people turn faster than scared and meek people. It had something to do with them having more fight in them. With that instead of fifty-three minutes, my guess is that you'll reanimate in twenty-five minutes tops and lucky for me that's when I need to fire the flare for retreat." Troy sighed and scratched the back of his head, "you fought well Cole and I'll pass your last words to your girlfriend when I get back home." 

Initially, I wasn't going to write a Troy centric chapter, but when I read some comments it made more sense to do it and strangely, I really like how it came out! Especially with the confession and how Troy's fighting with that in mind as well! Also, that ending was messed up, if I do say so myself, but is it out of character for Troy? Not at all!

Also, does this mean half the ship sailed?! I have no idea, but I think in a way it has?

Share your thoughts!