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

Wake me up at 8:00 a.m.

Once we were all at the ranch, I was relieved. I was only worried about Clara now, but I was slowly beginning to believe the legend Troy had invented. When we returned, Jake and the older Otto told Troy that the Trimboles had decided to leave the ranch right away. He and Jake ran to them. I didn't pay much attention to it because I didn't even know them. I didn't care, the only thing I cared about was my sister. After we had unpacked and gotten to know most of the Ranch regulars, the Clarks, along with our family, decided to go out to dinner and celebrate the reunion. My parents had taken supplies from our old dwelling, which included several bottles of wine. Apparently it had been stocked there by the old owners of the house we had managed to live in quite well all this time. The older Otto and Jake had joined the merry band of our families, so the big gazebo was pretty crowded, though almost all the ranch people had gone home by then, so it was just us and the perimeter guards who were awake. After a half hour of sitting around, Nick, Jake, and Danny went off somewhere. Apparently, they decided to get to know the purely male crowd better. Soon Alisha and I decided to leave our adults behind as well and went to the room. She told me that Jake and Troy had had a bit of a fight, and the Trimboles had left, but she didn't care much about that either, because the Clarks hadn't really made friends with the family, and now their emotional range was filled with joy at my relatives arrival. They seemed happy, too. They were only worried about Clara, but they were all used to her antics in normal life, so they weren't shocked now. We chatted with Alisha for a long time before Jake knocked on our door and took her away. I decided to go to bed, hoping that I would fall asleep, because I was actually pretty tired. 

I don't know how long I slept. When I opened my eyes, I realized it was still dark. Alisha was probably sound asleep now, but not in the next bed, but apparently in Jake's room. Suddenly I heard the floor creak and footsteps. Thinking it was my friend returning from her Romeo's embrace before morning began, I started to think of a sarcastic commentary on her appearance, but the footsteps passed my room toward the exit. I tensed up and jumped out of bed and walked out into the hallway. Troy was there. He was about to leave the house, but my appearance made him turn around.

"What do you think you're doing now here?" He asked in a whisper.

"And you?"

"None of your business, go to bed."

I saw the rifle in his hands. He went out the door. I followed him out onto the porch.

"Where are you going, Troy?! And with a rifle!"

"Didn't I make myself clear? None of your business."

We were still talking in a whisper, but rather aggressively, so that the dialog resembled the hissing of a cobra. Troy walked down the steps and headed for the gate. With all the bad options in my head, I followed him through the grass barefoot.

"Stop! I'm coming with you!"

To my surprise, he stopped and turned to me. The sight of him was a little intimidating, and I stepped back. Troy looked me over from head to toe and spoke:

"So, you're just going to go with me to an unknown place like that? In your underwear, no shoes, no weapons? I don't mind, of course, but..."

I felt ashamed, because I could lose my head from curiosity so much that I didn't notice how I ran out after him half-naked! The second I did, I turned around and walked back into the house.

"Back view nice!" Troy said in a broken laught voice.

I gave him the middle finger. What an asshole! Angry, I jumped into bed and turned my back to the wall before falling asleep.

I woke up to the sun shining brightly through the window, which had no curtains, so the rays penetrated unobstructed. Alisha still hadn't shown up, which meant it was no more than 7 a.m. I got up on the bed, stretched, and followed to the shower. After finishing my water treatment, I walked over to the mirror that hung in the room above the nightstand. At first I glanced past "them." But after a couple of seconds, my brain realized something was wrong, and my eyes settled on the clock. My watch. The one I'd left in my car. And underneath it was a note: "Wake me up at 8:00 a.m." I knew right away where Troy had gone the night before. The clock said it was almost that time. I put them on and, throwing on a t-shirt and jeans, went to my "neighbor's" room.

I knocked, but there was no answer. Then I entered the room. Bright sunlight flooded the entire area. I walked over to Troy's bed. He was asleep. The blanket had come off a little, exposing his back, which was now bathed in the gold of dawn. I sat down on the bed and ran my hand down his back. He twitched. I did it again, and again, and again, and so on, until he opened his eyes and intercepted my hand.

"Thanks for finding my thing, Troy. And I'm sorry for pestering you last night."

"Pestering at night?" He smirked, "Sounding better than it was."

His face radiated pleasure. He was satisfied. It was the first time I'd seen any positive emotion in him. He still hadn't let go of my palm. His warm fingers wrapped around mine and I wanted to kiss him, but instead, I said:

"No, really, I'm sorry, I'm very grateful to you, this watch means a lot to me. My husband gave it to me for our anniversary."

Suddenly, abruptly, Troy's face stopped broadcasting joy and became unemotionally cold again. He let go of my hand and rose quickly from the bed.

"You're welcome," he said without enthusiasm and walked toward the shower.

"Uh, what's wrong?" I didn't understand why he'd suddenly changed so much in a matter of seconds.

"Nothing, it's time for business."

"No, you don't understand, that's not what I meant."

"About what?"

"What was that just now?"

"What "that"?"

"You know exactly what I mean! You go out at night looking for my watch, leave a note, hold my hand, and then you change?! How do take that?"

"As you like, let me get myself together," he threw down still as indifferently.

"No, answer me!" I headed for the shower after him.

"Okay, you can stand here, if you want to see me naked, I'm not shy," he already wanted to start undressing, but I gave in.

"I'm leaving, I'm leaving, no problem!"

As soon as I stepped out of the house, I noticed the gathering. Nick, Madison, and Otto, the father of the family, were standing by the car at the gate. My family was already there too. Everyone's faces were tense and upset. I shifted my gaze to the car. There were some bodies lying in the back covered with cloth. I didn't understand what Madison was saying, so I moved closer. On the very juice of the news, I made it in time: Trimboles are dead, they were all killed by Indians. Everyone was in shock. But what had happened didn't cancel work, so I spent most of the day with Mom, Madison, and Alisha. Everyone was doing something with the beds and planting. Danny was fixing the fence with other kids his age. He was still small for the militia or any big jobs. He had just turned 15. My dad, the two older Otto's and a couple other men who weren't involved in the militia were studying maps of the area to solve the water issue. And Troy seemed to have vanished altogether. He was all I could think about, so I ignored Alisha's stories about planting carrots. It was getting close to 6:00, and I was starting to get discouraged. Nick noticed. And decided to rescue me. He was in the militia with Troy. So he asked me to join him. I didn't see myself doing it, but I was a good shot, and I wanted to talk to Troy. We went to the barn where the militia was practicing. Troy was leading the training. Nick gestured for him to join us.

"Troy, Della's a good shot. Why don't we bring her in? There are other girls in the squad too, so she'll be with them in the women's team..."

"No," Troy cut him off, "we have enough people"

He turned around and started to walk away, but I couldn't resist:

"I really can!"

He stopped and, without turning around, repeated himself harshly:

"I said no!"

Upset, I went to dinner. After fiddling with my plate and citing a bad feeling, I return house. I had a great book I'd found on one of my outings. It was Remarque, "Arc de Triomphe". Once upon a time, back in high school, I had loved reading Remarque, so now I was in anticipation. Just as I settled into the chair by the window and opened the book, there was a knock at the door.