This chapter is a bit longer than usual. Enjoy!
"Hey, hey, hey, long time no see!" Cristine licked the corner of her lip before she gruffly gnawed at it with her teeth and turned around to face a cheery Troy. He held his arms out as if he was ready to hug a close friend he hadn't seen in years. She blinked at the bloody patch on his right eye, Madison Clark's handiwork, and some liquid leaked down his cheek. Cristine's expression remained the same. Troy dropped his arms and turbulently wiped his hands against the sides of his pants. The mercurial smile on his face was like that of a child who had a secret to tell.
Cristine didn't want to comment on the state of his eye and asked, "I'm looking for-"
"Martha died." Troy bluntly delivered the news with a light tilt of his lip. When he said it, he tipped his chin up and watched her reaction. "Last night. She and Russell burned to ashes. You were out on guard duty at the sentry tower, so you missed the fire." Cristine blinked, her face stiff and refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. Troy didn't seem to care too much, his mood was surprisingly good, as creepy as it was talking about the deaths of fellow Ranch members. His supposed people. He stalked in the direction of the medium sized table with some prepackaged medical equipment and took one. "You seem to find the best things lately."
"I seem to be lucky lately." Troy looked back at her and put forth a mock impression of awe, but didn't press on the issue.
"When we could finally pull out what was left of the bodies, you know since we couldn't waste the water, I thought they would turn." Troy switched back to telling the tragic story of the elderly couple. "But then we realized that the fire was an accident, but their deaths weren't. Russell put a bullet through both their brains. I guess he wanted to go out with his spouse who had already turned." Something of an enthused sigh relaxed Troy's broad shoulders. He wiped the side of his cheek from the blood line trickling down and muttered a curse under his breath.
"Let me fix that." Cristine offered not out of concern or courtesy, but he most likely came here to get his injury treated. While she cleaned his wound, the sound of him crumpling the plastic sterilized kit filled the infirmary. He didn't so much as flinch when she swiped at the injury with a cotton of saline solution.
Then Troy wondered out loud, "it's fascinating you know. How someone would give their life for another person for no other reason than loyalty and love." It made Trot think back to what Madison said, talking about her now dead husband. He didn't understand how someone could love another's life more than their own. It was bizarre and fascinating and seeing it again with Russell and Martha just piqued Troy's interest again.
Cristine patted the damaged skin dry with a clean towel and looked down at her hands to undo the non-adhesive and waterproof plaster from its cover. She didn't put much thought to her words, too focused on planting it against his blood soaked eye. "For some people that's more than enough."
"Was it for you?" He asked the woman that stood right across from him. The question emerged from his mouth amid his thoughtful daze - but it was no longer about love- it had changed into something disturbing. "I mean, that's why you crossed half the state right? Risked it all to come here knowing that you could get killed at any point. At any time." His eye was almost translucent, glossy from the light. Like the palest blue tintes glass, it was too soft to be turquoise, too bright to be baby blue.
"Wouldn't you do the same for your father? For Jake?"
When Cristine countered with the exact same question, his lips curled into a smile and he shrugged. "It's different, we've always been together. We never had to worry about separating, because there was no reason for us to."
Cristine really didn't want to indulge Troy, but she wanted to know why he always started these odd conversations with her. Were her actions as strange as he visualized them? She was just like everyone else. She had things that kept her going. People to protect even if it meant taking another's life or playing dirty. Cristine would do anything for her family and loved ones. "But you'd kill for them, right?" His eyebrows rose, a bit surprised by the question. Cristine continued, "kill to protect what's yours, no matter what." His eyes were shining as he gazed upon her, an undefined feeling of genuine awe on his mien. Cristine unwrapped a second dressing and added it on top of the first one. Blood already started to soak through the plaster, and she continued to apply pressure on the wound.
Troy caught himself gaping and slowly shut his mouth. A soft halfhearted laugh escaped, the short huff of air barely perceptible. The remark was left hanging, but there was no need to him to give his answer. It wasn't difficult to guess it. He'd give his life for his family and home. It was the most logical thing to do.
"Make sure to change the bandage three to four times a day. If the bleeding is excessive change it more often." The instructions were simple and Troy rose simultaneously when she stepped back, putting some distance between them.
"Got it." Troy tipped his chin down, his mind busy as his hands fumbled with the dispensable medical tools. Meanwhile, Cristine zipped her bag shut and slid the loop on one shoulder. When Cristine was ready she looked at Troy to say her goodbye, but paused at her silliness of thinking he would even care. Their gazes met anyway and she watched him struggle to voice his opinion. That struck her as strange, so she probed, "what?"
It seemed like he was glad to be asked so Troy could release his eager statement. "With Martha gone and you here for who knows how long, the Ranch could use an extra hand in the infirmary."
Cristine blinked at his unexpected offer and stayed silent as she watched him explain it as rationally as he could, "I'd rather you join the militia, but you're already taking up guard duty and we need more hands in here. You're the one with the mos experience and-" Troy scratched his throat and sucked in his lower lip. "You don't have to leave for the outpost after we deal with this nutjob." Troy extended his arm, the kit hovering in front of Cristine as he urged her to accept it and his offer. He hoped she'd accept his offer. Cristine her skills were more valuable here than at some outpost. Someone else could take that burden upon them.
Sighing, Cristine looked away and rubbed the back of her neck, "Would you be angry if I said that I still want to go after we deal with this asshole?"
"Why?" He sharply asked, eyes narrowing with both incredulity and annoyance. "Why did you want to leave in the first place?" Troy interrogated, tired of playing this cat and mouse game for once. At first, he figured Cristine needed time and space with everything that happened with Willy, so he and Jake vouched she man the outpost. Troy expected the woman to get sick of it and come back, but she didn't. And he wasn't going to beg her to come back. He had a militia to lead and the way Jake, Blake and Charlie talked about how happy and at peace she was there made Troy shake his with incredulity. He didn't realize Cristine ran away that easily. Never thought her that frail. It was clear she went to the outpost and stayed there cause she was running away from some things.
Cristine scoffed, "I'm fine where I am. I'm keeping an eye out for all of us. The community doesn't mind, why do you? I'm also not the only one with medical experience. We'll survive."
"Then why were you so hell ben to offer medical assistance for that Mexic-"
Cristine raised her palm, a scowl on her face, stopping Troy from finishing that bigoted statement. "Watch it." Feeling the early phase of a headache bubbling up with the flow of this conversation, Cristine pushed his hand back. How did their conversation keep turning to this? To nonsensical arguments? "You said you'd leave me tending to Luciana out of whatever issue it is you have with me. I'm not your toy soldier Troy and I don't have to explain myself to you... or anyone here for that matter. I'm helping us, looking out for us, cause I want to, so why are you so bitter about it?"
Troy clenched his teeth, "I just want to know why?! Everything was perfect and we started off with a clean slate. Training the recruits, solidifying our policies. We're building something here and then you decided to permanently live at that place." Troy began to rave at this point, his frustration as clear as day. But his words didn't really have anything to do with why he was really upset with Cristine.
Cristine listened to Troy's rant and furrowed her brows as he continued, "you get what it takes to shoulder burdens no one else here wants or can bear. Burdens people around here criticize while enjoying the benefits it brings to them." Troy wanted to say that Cristine understood him too, unlike his brother and father, but didn't. He was just frustrated with his family. "Don't regret your past actions because of some hypocrites!" Troy's outburst was filled with a bitter resentment towards his own people, not necessarily at the woman in front of him. It sounded like his current comments were something that weighed between the crevices of his mind. Cristine was just bearing the brunt of Troy's frustrations.
"Why do you care?" Cristine arched her brow, curious as to why he was so heated about her whereabouts or what she decided out of her own free will and peace of mind. A scowl appeared on her face when Troy divulged his entitled response.
"I vouched for you. I picked you, I made sure you were treated right, but you still left. Why? I have a right to know the answer. I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me." Now his tone voice was filled with accusation and overbearing bitterness.
"Because it was my choice Troy, what else do you want me to say? That I'm oh so grateful for your approval. Your respect of treating me as one of the kind? That I am finally being seen like a human being only after I kill for you? That's messed up and you know it."
"So you do regret killing Ben."
Cristine shook her head, her answer firm and without an ounce of hesitance, "I don't. I'd do it all over again. Just don't kid yourself that I killed for you or some greater purpose. I did it for me as much as you when doing your little experiments."
"That's not an answer."
Cristine rubbed her temples with annoyance and scratched and rolled the inside of her lower lip over her teeth, her chagrin palpable. She didn't like that he thought he could boss her around and get angry because things didn't go as he planned them to. He didn't own her! "Well, its my answer and my choice." She snapped back rather defensively and abruptly turned to leave the infirmary.
-
"Cristine! Cristine, wait up!" Closing the door of her car, ready for a quick trip to her outpost and back, Cristine saw Jake and her father draw close in a quick sprint. James was slightly out of breath, flushed and sweaty, but he had a relieved look on his face to have found her.
"Dad? Jake? What's up? I was just about to leave with Blake to get some stuff from-"
"You can't leave." Her father quickly interjected and massaged his ribs with a palm. The three words made his daughter pause and whilst he caught his breath, Jake decided to explain the details.
"We haven't heard anything from McCarthy after the helicopter crashed. We think something's wrong at outpost Alpha." Jake finished, his brows creased with worry. Since Charlie's death that's been the sole expression on his face. Cristine was sure the man barely slept at all.
"I can check it out. I've taken that route a couple of times when they needed supplies or help. I'll see what I can find."
"No." Her father firmly shook his head and touched her shoulder, the severity in his gaze worrying for not only her safety, but that of his old friend. "We won't risk you leaving too. Alone for that matter. We don't know what we're dealing with yet and if we do, we'll send out a search party."
Jake agreed and crossed his arms over his elbows, "the klicks McCarthy had to cover isn't much. But that doesn't mean anything happened. It just means were being-"
"Cautious. I know." She sucked her lower lip inward and patted her father on the back of his hand in reassurance. "I'll stay until we know more."
James finally seemed assured when he heard those words out loud and smiled. While she was more than pulling her weight, James rather have Cristine here, where she was safe, instead in the wild all alone. He came to believe that they were going to do more than that. They even took new people in, so James was convinced that had to mean something.
"Thank you Jake, these old bones and muscles aren't what they used to be."
"You're welcome James." Jake shook his head with a chuckle and told Cristine, "you're cabin is still the way you left it. Charlene and I made sure to air the place out once in a while."
A ghost of a smile crossed his face, the loss and pain in his demeanor evident. Cristine felt bad for him and nodded. "Thanks Jake. You take it easy and if there's something I can do to help, I'll be around."
"Thank you. I'm just happy we got to you in time. Like I said, no panic, but just a precaution until we hear more." His emphasis on the situation made it crystal clear to Cristine that including Jake, her father and Jeremiah, only she knew of McCarthy's bizarre radio silence. She quickly grasped that Jake trusted her enough to share the information with her, knowing she'd keep it under wraps.
"Got it." She nodded in understanding before Jake left the two family members to converse.
"I heard about Russel and Martha.... you knew them well right?" James forced a smile out, brows scrunched together and his expression weary. Now that she'd taken a good look at her father, Cristine noticed how tired he looked.
"Russel and I both served in Vietnam. He met Martha when he was hospitalized. She was a nurse back then." Cristine walked with her father as he told the rather romantic story of the Brown's. The pair moved to Southern California after they got married. They didn't have children of their own, but they were looking for something that could fulfill their lives and came incontact with Jeremiah, Vernon, and Phil, before settling here. It felt as if her father deliberately skipped past a few events in his story, so Cristine frowned.
"What made you leave?" Cristine asked trying to probe at this backstory she never once heard her father talk about. It always unsettled Cristine that her father made the sudden decision to move to Broke Jaw Ranch. A week before the outbreak without even calling her... no- she did receive one drunk voice message on the day all lines went down and that was that. A stupid, but fateful coin toss led her to come down here in seatch of him and Hailey. Otherwise, she would still be roaming outside, in the middle of nowhere, by herself.
"It sounded as five of you had something really good going on after making this Founding Fathers pack and building... all of this together." Cristine gestured at the bustling people who very kindly and respectfully greeted her and her father. She was curious to hear this unknown story of her father. "Why didn't you stay instead of going back to San Fransisco?"
"Cause I never knew what life would bring me next." A dimpled smile flourished on James's face, wrinkles increasing as his expression softened. "I went back cause I made a promise to help a friend of mine in need first. I always wanted to come back to Broke Jaw Ranch. And as cliche as it sounds, I saw your mother and she swooped me from my feet when I first saw her."
"Isn't it usually the man who swoops the woman from her feet?" Cristine didn't expect her father to change his course of life because of love... but if he hadn't she would have never been born.
"Not in this case, Birdie. Your mother she was the most beautiful person I've ever seen and she's the love of my life." James looked like a young man in love again when he talked about Cristine's mother, his cheeks were even a bit rosy and the animated manner in which he spoke of her was adorable. "She would have loved this place if she was still here... she always wanted to live this sort of life, especially after the sickness got her."
"Really? Mom living as a Prepper? I can't really see it." Cristine could not imagine that... but then again, she was very young and remembered moments of her mother before she got terminally ill and left this world.
"A Survivalist," James corrected and smiled before explaining, "and I mean the sustainable way of life. Your mother hailed from a small village in Cuba in a farming family. After moving to the States, she admitted to me that she strangely missed that way of life. We had plans... but then she got sick before we could even put them into fruition," James sighed, the exhale shaky and a different sort of heaviness hitting him.
"And you had to take care of me after."
"You and your mother didn't ruin anything for me. You could never. You two opened my eyes to the fact that I kept a lot of hate, anger, prejudice, dissapointment and bigoted views in me. It's why I never talked about my life down here and the Ranch... I was ashamed. Still am. None of that is an excuse for what I did to you when you came here Birdie. I should've protected you best that I could. I should've told you that we were planning on moving here."
Cristine paused in her walk, blinking as it dawned to her that her father was actually the one who brought up an issue that needed to be addressed ever since she arrived. Feeling her throat clog up, Cristine pursed her lips and rubbed her fingers together, flesh clammy. Looking into her father's warm, blue eyes searching for a sign of deceit, Cristine slowly relaxed when she didn't and kept back her tears by her his next words.
"I'm sorry Cristine and I hope you can forgive me for all I did and said to you."