𝙰𝚝 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙴𝚍𝚐𝚎 𝙾𝚏 𝙼𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚢 | 𝚃. 𝙾𝚝𝚝𝚘 𐂃

Chapter 18

Long chapter, but this will be the turning point for Cristine, so brace yourselves 😪

"They're important," Troy piped up when put his journal back inside his pocket and stalked in the direction of the rest. He'd done enough watching and writing for the night. When he heard Cristine's plea, he couldn't help but roll his eyes at the ridiculousness of it.

The snarls of the young boy was grating through the ear and in his stride, Troy unlocked his gun, cocked it and pulled the trigger. The bullet shot clean through his collapsed cranium and the weak whimpers and sob made his indifferent, but sharp eyes narrow in the direction of the woman and daughter.

"We need them for research."

They were huddled together, looked worse for wear and didn't have much on them. The family was dirty and bony from food deprivation. He frowned, convinced that even if he agreed to Cristine's request, they'd die either from a lack of food, thirst or the dead.

Right now, in this moment, their deaths had purpose. It'd be a mercy provided for them too. Not from the goodness of their hearts, but because it was kill or be killed now.

Troy looped his hand through his tactical vest and in a shrugging motion explained, "we just need you for the translation. Determine if they have any ailments in their immune system or conditions that can influence the results."

Two dark eyes look up from her prostrated position on the dirt. They were trained on him and as he looked closely they were clinched with disgust. She probably wanted to either run for the hills or to a weapon, but like expecred Troy saw the spark of determination wavering.

"Not them." Cristine gestured at the two female's with a shake of the head. The glint of her previous defiance mellowed and Troy secretly relished in that. She was on their turf, at his mercy, and Troy could do whatever he pleased at this point. Translation or not; they could kill the rest and just time it.

But Troy needed a structure to collect a basic data set.

With an exasperated sigh that betrayed his impatience, Troy raised his hand before rubbing at the faint hairs on his chin.

"Why?"

"It's what the father wants."

"Why do you care?" He asked her with curiosity, he didn't care for the appeal of a dead man. While secondary, Troy wanted to know what drove her to want to help strangers. He let out an understated sound and stated, "they're skin and bones; sick individuals and frankly already dead."

Cristine felt the chill travel through her veins, but it never made it to her face. She wanted so desperately take a great leap and run to safety. The adrenaline surged so fast, she almost felt the reflex to gag. Beads of sweat trickled down her browline.

She had a hard time reading him. His face - relaxed - curious to hear her answer. His body posture determined. Troy would do whatever he had in mind, no matter her answer. He played as long as it took to create havoc, drive her made and then do all the things that disturbed mind of his concocted in the name of 'science' and 'protecting his people'.

Words Cristine heard too often to take serious anymore.

"It's triage. Don't think you're too unfamiliar with that." He briefly inspected the family of three one by one. This time, the father piqued his interest and a lazy smirk stretched on his lips, "we time him first so he doesn't have to see the end."

Cristine saw Troy signal Blake to cock his riffle on the man's back. He started to speak to his wife and daughter while puffing his chest out and preparing for his death. Red-rimmed eyes and a shaky breathing, but the man showed no fear if it meant saving his last two family members.