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

Linda and Oliver

"Let's go while it's light and not raining," Troy suggested.

I didn't feel like getting up. While we were in bed, I felt like everything around me didn't exist. But alas, after his words, Otto jumped off the bed and started to get dressed, which meant paradise was broken, it was time to wake up.

I stared at Troy's back as he put on his pants. The three birthmarks were treacherously bringing me back to reality, reminding me of who we really were. He's a killer. And so am I. Clara was wrong, but she didn't deserve to die. She didn't? What am I talking about, God. She was my sister. What have I become in such a short time? I've become almost like a zombie myself. Morally. I was sickened by what I'd done. I slit her throat, and then I just ran away. Didn't even try to help her, didn't even try to save her, bury her.... I wrapped myself in a blanket. Smelled like dust. I wondered how long it had been here. When did people leave here? And did they? Maybe they were murdered. Maybe that dead man by the car was the owner of this house.

I was interrupted by Troy, who was already dressed.

"Waiting for coffee in bed?" Troy asked wint ironic.

"I don't think you're capable of that."

"When you say I'm incapable of something, I immediately want to do it, to make you ashamed," he smirked, turning his sock out.

"There, I've found the pressure points!" I rubbed my hands together theatrically like an evil genius.

Troy stared at me for a few seconds in silence.

"Why are you here? I still don't understand. What has life rewarded me for?"

"Or maybe it punished you?" I said ironically.

"No. I've been unreal lucky. I'd be dead by now if I'd left alone. Or would have done something even worse."

"Well, no, you're resourceful. Would have figured out a way to save yourself."

He shrugged and headed downstairs. As he came down the stairs, Otto shouted:

"And about the coffee: I can arrange it, can't I? I thought we had a couple bags in the car."

"I hate coffee without milk," I shouted back, "better make some more tea for the road."

I heard him laugh, and I felt so relieved at the sound. The first time I was so emotionally connected to another person. Anyone who hasn't loved someone for a long time will understand me. Of course, I'm not some unfeeling psychopath. I love my parents, my brother. I loved my sister. But this is different. Troy was soul mate, not blood mate. I never felt that way about Aron. He was just there for me. I was just comfortable with him. But it wasn't even a couple percent like it is now with Otto.

I went downstairs. Troy was warming the water. I sat down in the same wicker chair and closed my eyes. The fire crackled, its smell seemed so far away. Like a fairy tale. I was getting calmer.

It took a little time to pack the thermos for the road. Soon we were on the road. I was driving this time. I wanted to focus on something to keep my mind off Clara. Troy was looking at the map. Every now and then we talked about something. Everything was steady, we followed the signs. The highway was empty except for the dead people we occasionally bumped into.

After a couple hours of driving, it started to get dark. We had passed Sacramento and were now near Klamath Falls. It was about 500 kilometers to Vancouver. We were running out of gas. It was time to do something. We saw a gas station. After checking it out, of course, we were left with nothing. We drove on in suspense. Suddenly there was some movement near the sign. I looked closely and started to slow down. I think there was a girl. She was standing a little lower in the ditch.