Troy stared out over the gates, his profile painted by the setting sun. He notices a few of the men who stayed behind patrolling the empty acres of land their AR-15 assault rifle hanging around his upper torso like soldiers from some war. With his dexterous hands and fingers, Troy stripped his weapon and began to clean it. The craft and care that went into the creation of guns never ceased to amaze him. He couldn't envision a life without it, not when it came to this mad world. After setting some cleaned pieces aside, Troy worked from the breech end and ran a cleaning rod down the insides. It was a sequence of constant motions, ensuring he got his piece cleaned.
Trying to remember the last time he was this exhilarated, focused, and truly alive, Troy thought back to his ingenuous plan of hiding between a pile of corpses to hide from an incoming horde. It was a surrealistic and mind numbing experience and something he often thought of. Playing possum; their lives minuscule among the trekking dead. Outnumbered, overpowered and in over his head and the world didn't belong to the living in that moment, but to the dead. To nature that rectified and destroyed without bias like it was nothing and even time itself lost it's meaning back then. Troy remembered how his heart pounded, heard his ears pound from the agitated noises of the dead and their stench.
He'd almost admit that he felt the single sinuous ambience of the dead. Troy had never experienced such bizarre beauty in his life. It was the first time he was in the thick of such a hopeless situation, but he remembered smiling. He was giddy by the beast that moved on its own led by nothing but feral drive. Goosebumps ran over his arms at the hair raising memory that settled in the deepest fiber of his being. Yet even with his life and that of his team just hanging on a thread, Troy didn't fear death. He was simply fascinated with how life and death evolved into its current state. How that cycled changed and became intermittent. It was more excitement for Troy than whatnot -not fear- and he'd accept his fate. In the face of tasting and touching death, quite literally, the nerves in Troy's body electrified. His senses sharpened like a knife and deep in the crevices of his mind and welcomed this war they were going to wage. A war that wasn't with the dead, but the living. He was ready, like so many. Troy didn't care about his life at this point, just that they'd win and got rid of Walker and the Nation for good. It was what he was trained and taught to do. Big Otto ingrained it into him to never to retreat or surrender. Take down the assholes who do you wrong and ignore the bleeding hearts with talk of stolen land and all that. This was his and his family's home and he'd defend it even if it had to be ruined. The enemy would have to put a bullet in his brain, burn his body and exterminate his bloodline if they were hell bent on taking this place.
Troy thought of his brother and hoped Jake was safe. In spite of everything, their issues and complications Troy wanted his brother back in one piece. He hoped somewhere that his sibling would finally understand why they did what they did. Jake was always soft and too good for this world. He tried, but he didn't really know what the Ranch was about. Troy resented Jake when he left him behind for college. The end of the world opened a new chapter and a bit closer, at least when they were starting to build this place and people came to the Ranch for safety and protection. Troy becoming responsible for those two things and leader of the militia gave him a new purpose. A new calling in this world that he could finally breathe as a person his family didn't look at him like he was a lost cause.
"Troy come in, over." Shaken from his thoughts, Troy quickly grabbed the walkie-talkie from the table and thumbs the talk button. The sound just crackles when resounding.
"Cristine?" Frowning, Troy was surprised to hear the woman call in. Usually it was either Jake, Blake or James that came with a status report. Wetting his lips, Troy unconsciously straightened his body and asked, "everything alright back there?"
"We're all fine considering." Cristine's voice sizzled and Troy's brows scrunched together, confused as to why she was calling in instead. He waited for a bit so she could clarify and slightly relaxed when she did. "I'm on some kind of break and needed to keep my mind distracted. Thought of checking in with you. How's everything? Any news?"
Troy glanced at the gates and hills. It all had the illusion of serenity. Like a calm before the storm, but there wasn't anything out of the ordinary and none had spotted any fresh tracks that indicated scouts were around yet. Troy picked up his fully resembled gun while he organizing his thoughts for what was to come. He chewed on the inside of his cheek and a tranquility washed over his body and thumbed in the button to answer and inadvertently stared at the only way for the enemy to enter. "It's been... quiet ever since you all left. I don't know if it's the good or bad kind for sure. It's probably the bad."
"Like with everything." Troy didn't know if that was defeat he heard in her voice.
"How is the flock?" Troy and his men usually addressed the ones that couldn't do what they did as the flock. It was an inside joke, but a very real mentality their people had. Somewhere, Troy was glad they experienced peril, uncertainty, and hardships. At least then, they would realize what he and his men did every day. The risks they took and the expectation and burdens carried by the militia tasked with protection. Troy wasn't asking for a pat on the back just less judgement about how they protected the Ranch. Less gossip from the ones labeling him a bad person. He wasn't.
"A bit on edge, but otherwise fine. We have a system in place with a routine. It also helps that the Trimbols stayed and Jake's here to be the voice of reason, morality, and hope. They need it after this reality check." Troy agreed. Still, it felt like there was another reason Cristine called in. This report could have come from Jake or James, but she specifically called in his line when his father was the one who needed to be kept in the loop to make the calls.
"And you?" Troy asked carefully, eyes squinted and breath even. "How's the new job treating you?" It was quiet on the other side and Troy was almost tempted to repeat his question when he heard some crackling.
"Kathy's due. Don't know when, but her and her baby's life are in my hands. I'm practicing the procedure on some corpses as we speak. I don't know- I promised I'd deliver that baby- I have to whether I want it or not, but if something goes wrong... that's another life to add on my list."
Troy was speechless. Not over the fact that Cristine needed to do something complicated she had no experience with. Or that she, in a way, was done with the blood shed if she could choose. But more so over the fact that she radioed him in to talk about her grievances. Troy only had basic first aid experience, so Cristine clearly didn't come for medical advice. She wanted to vent and probably hide whatever insecurities she had from the rest. Which was a good call to avoid a panic. But Troy picked up something interesting in her confession and tried to address it, "remember when you saved Ben? Odds were against him after that bite. Yet you saved his life- well after you decided on the spot he wasn't of use to us anymore." Troy smiled perversely at that ruthless moment and calculated moment that surprised them all.
"The point, Troy," Cristine sounded impatient.
"The point is that you took a chance. You cut off his arm clean and nursed him back to life without thinking about it. You wasted supplies on someone who you weren't sure was going to make it. Yeah, you were going to kill him cause he needed to die for our sakes, but back then you had a goal in mind and completed it." Troy paused, gaze thoughtful of all the risks and chances they were all taking. "I get it. You're worried about screwing up. Instead of thinking what can go wrong, list the things that can go right. Worst case scenario... Kathy doesn't make it, but her baby does. It still means you saved a life. Jake says it best; there's always some light in the dark. Some sort of hope."
There was a pause again and Troy wasn't sure if that helped her with what she was looking for. Troy wasn't overly attached or good at giving any emotional advice. Most of the time he didn't care, but their current situation demanded it. Unity, chain of command all under his himself coordinated with a little bit of help from Cristine. This all of their future now and while he was ready to die, Troy wanted the Ranch to be a better place than before; like his father always preached. It was far from perfect and a work in progress, but everyone needed to pull their weight right now. Even Cristine bearing the responsibility of delivering a child pretty soon.
"So what's your light in all of this? Going out guns blazing?" Cristine finally asked.
"Well, I knew this was always going to happen one way or another. Much earlier than I expected, but if this is my final stand than it is. If it means giving my life for my home, I'd always choose that over anything else. It's what I'm meant to do, just like you're meant to bring a baby into this world."
I wanted this to be a Troy centric chapter and ended up adding Cristine into the mix. I like it for obvious reasons and hope you guys did too :)