Until the world falls apart - Fear The Walking Dead

VIII- Imminent danger

After saying goodbye to Alicia and Nick, the convoy set off. My mother was in another car behind, and I was stuck with Troy and his seemingly cheerful mood due to my presence. The tension between us had turned into a heavy and opaque silence after our argument.

For Troy, this situation was perplexing. He believed he was convinced of his hatred towards Bella, but something within him rebelled against this feeling. He found himself feeling the urgent need to protect her, even though he refused to admit it. Torn between his resentment and this instinctive desire to watch over Bella, he found himself in an emotional deadlock. Every time he met her gaze, he felt torn between wanting to talk to her and fearing to show any vulnerability.

We had been driving for a while when Troy noticed a penitentiary bus on the side of the road. He deemed it necessary to stop and take them down, considering the proximity to the ranch in case the infected decided to migrate. Cooper wasn't particularly in favor, saying it would waste our time, and I agreed. That wasn't the mission's goal.

But that was without counting on my mother's intervention, who believed we should do it and supported Troy's request. What was she thinking, damn it?

We all got out of the vehicles. I saw my mother approach me and pull out a gun, but before she could load it, Troy handed her an axe, claiming it was more discreet. As for me, I took out my sharp knife from my pants, and we set off.

Upon reaching the bus, a putrid smell invaded my nose—hell, they must have been there for a while. The bus was overturned, bloody handprints on the windows, and undead scattered everywhere. This was going to be an interesting story.

Troy led the way and began his butchery, cutting, tearing, blasting the zombies. My mother joined in, and the rest of us followed suit. I didn't take pleasure in killing things, but the more we killed, the fewer there would be near the ranch. Anyway, those monsters didn't deserve to live. I eliminated a small group of zombies, and the others did the same. One person seemed to take extreme pleasure, and it was obviously Troy. Our relationship had changed; I couldn't say how, but it was different. However, that didn't mean he had changed, and I tended to forget that these days. He was still the same.

Once the clean-up was done, he couldn't help but ask how long it had taken us. Someone answered one minute; I couldn't help but sigh before looking at my mother. I didn't understand why she encouraged him to do all this; she was feeding the monster.

I found myself facing a similar reality. Despite my annoyance with certain aspects of Troy's behavior, I realized that the protective presence he exerted over me reassured me in a way. Yet, I wasn't ready to admit that deep down, this protection brought me a sense of comfort that I found difficult to ignore. It was simply impossible; I must not feel anything for him. He had committed unforgivable acts; he was dangerous. And yet, our dynamic was gradually changing, and I didn't like it.

After the incident, we all continued on to the location of the helicopter crash in the mountains. Once there, we set foot on the trail.

"What a mess is this?" Mike asked.

"Are you sure this is it?" Cooper questioned in turn.

"It's pretty obvious it's here, idiot," Troy replied.

My mother approached the edge and explained that someone must have taken the helicopter wreckage. It changed a lot of things; if the person or group that had shot down the helicopter had the technical means to move such a load, it was no longer a small threat but quite the opposite. Something was wrong; we lacked information, and that's probably why my mother insisted on coming. She knew.

My stomach churned; something was wrong, and we weren't going to be long before finding out what.

"From a 223, it was shot," a man said, handing the cartridge to Troy.